


Fallen

by Noctis_Horrorem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Hermione Granger, Death Eaters, Evil Dumbledore, F/M, Gen, Other, Pureblood Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noctis_Horrorem/pseuds/Noctis_Horrorem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also published on ff.net!<br/>AU. After the Battle at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione discovers she is related to the darkest wizard of all time. Voldemort. Not only that but she is also a pureblood! To top it all off, the only one who can properly help her is none other than Narcissa Malfoy. What else could go wrong? Perhaps an arranged marriage to her cousin? That's what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you like this story! If you would like to keep up to date with story progress, then head over to facebook and give my page Noctis Horrorem a like!

When all was said and done, it was her father who had done it. He was the one who wound up forcing the decision she had made. He was the one who had lied to her her ENTIRE life. He was the one who had made her feel like she was nothing more than gum on the bottom of an aristocratic shoe.

 

Her entire life was a lie truth be told. Everything she thought she was, a lie. All because her father couldn't accept the truth about himself. All because he had thought he had known better.

 

Hermione stood out the front of Malfoy Manor cold determination written on her face. When she had told Harry and Ron they had laughed at her, actually LAUGHED at her!

 

“It must have been a dream, ‘Mione. I always have dreams that seem real.” Ron had said with a mouth full of food once he had calmed down.

 

“Are you sure you did the spell correctly ‘Mione? It was the first time you had done it after all.” Harry said after a mouthful of pumpkin juice.

 

She huffed, her breath coming out in a cloud of fog in the late January air. It had been months since she had first cast the spell on herself. The spell that confirmed her father and mother weren't muggle after all. That her father had obliviated her mother to keep her hidden from her true family. The father who had let his only daughter get bullied throughout her early schooling for being a freak. The father who had hugged her as she cried when she explained how prejudiced children at her new school were because her parents were muggles.

 

She was just so damned angry!

 

Hermione had come home from her fifth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her memories were still fresh of the battle at the Ministry of Magic. She had spent the first week in her room, only coming down for meals. They had made it out alive. All but Sirius. She felt she had failed him somehow because she was the smart one. She was the one who was supposed to be able to help everyone. One of the last connections Harry had to his parents gone.

 

She had read everything she could on the Veil of Death. The only living things to come out of it were the Dementors. When she had read that piece of information she shivered. She couldn’t tell Harry that. It would ruin him knowing his Godfather might come back like that.

 

Her father had come upstairs to talk to her not long after she had discovered that piece of information. He asked her why she was locking herself away, and Hermione had finally broken down and told him. She told him all about the battle. About Voldermort returning and about Sirius’ death and how broken she felt.

 

He had remained silent the whole time and had flinched when she had called Voldermort his real name. When she had finished her father had just sat there in silence.

 

Finally, he sighed and looked her in the eye. “Hermione, there is something I have been meaning to tell you for a very long time.”

 

Hermione looked up at her father with confusion. His face looked pained as he went on to explain.

 

“Your mother and I, we aren’t who you think we are. You aren’t who you think you are. My father was Morfin Gaunt. My mother was Nemesis Carrow. I was born out of wedlock while my father was still in prison, and I was born a squib. Your mother’s real name is Norma Black. When I asked for your mother’s hand, your grandfather challenged me to a duel. I lost, but your mother came with me anyway. Your grandmother obliviated all memories of the wizarding world from your mother so she would not return.”

 

Hermione sat in stunned silence as her father told his tale. He continued.

 

“We got married not long after, I had managed to change my name surname to Granger and had taken John as my first name, so as to hope no one could track us down. I knew if my cousin found us, we would all be slaughtered.

 

“When I found out your mother was pregnant with you, I was so happy but so scared. I hoped you would be like me, a squib, so you wouldn’t have to worry about Hogwarts and the politics of the wizarding world. But when you were two, there was a storm, and you were so scared. You made all of your toys float up against your bedroom window to block out the lightening. I was terrified of how the world would react to you knowing your heritage. I was scared of how the students would treat you knowing your cousin, my cousin was The Dark Lord. So I kept it secret.”

 

Hermione blinked once. Then twice. Then she laughed. She laughed so hard she felt tears well in her eyes. “Oh, dad! That’s a good one! You should have saved that one for April Fool’s Day! Where did you get all that information from? Was Harry in on this?”

 

Mr. Granger just shook his head. “I’m not making jokes, Hermione. Next time you are at Grimmauld Place, have a look at the Black family tree. You will see where your mother was blasted off.”

 

“You aren’t kidding, are you Dad?” Hermione said in a soft whisper, her body suddenly beginning to shake. “You actually believe all this don’t you?”

 

“I don’t just believe it, I know it. I lived it for long enough before I came to live as a muggle.”

 

Hermione just stared at her father. “Out. Get out. Now.” Her voice was deceptively calm.

 

Her father just nodded then rose to leave. As he neared the door, Hermione shot a Tickling Charm at her father. It bounced right off his back. Hermione gasped.

 

“I can do some accidental magic you know. I’ve just never been able to control it. The product of my father’s side of the family loving to reproduce amongst themselves I suspect.” Mr. Granger said in a disappointed tone.

 

He stepped out of the room and closed the door.

 

Hermione just sat on her bed for several minutes in silence. Then she did the only thing she could do, she researched.

 

Her father couldn’t be telling the truth that just wasn’t possible. This must have been some kind of prank that was being pulled between her father and Harry or something. Harry must have cast some kind of spell knowing Hermione would try and disprove her father’s story. It was all very thoroughly planned. Possibly the twins had something to do with it too, it stank of their treachery.

 

For the next few days, all Hermione did was read. Someone had brought her meals up to her door for her and took the empty dishes when she was done. She just couldn’t bring herself to face her father right now. It was all too much.

 

Two weeks before they were to return for their sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione received an owl from Harry and Ron, inviting her to the Burrow.

 

She sent back a quick message saying she would be there tonight, and that she had big news to tell them. Then she quickly packed and left. She didn’t even say goodbye to anyone. Her father, in particular, deserved no kind of respect from her.

 

She decided to ask Mrs. Weasley first if she had any books on wizarding genealogy. The Weasley’s might not be the best pureblood wizards in the world, but they were still a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. This generation might not put much thought into that, but previous ones might have.

 

“I can have a look, sweetheart. I think Arthur may have gotten rid of most of them, though. The man should have been born a muggle I swear!”

 

Hermione smiled and thanked the kindly woman. Later that evening she brought a few books up to the room Hermione shared with Ginny.

 

“Here you go dear. Found these in the bottom of one of my chests in the attic. They are Prewett books, mostly family spells and the like, but you are more than welcome to learn them. Merlin forbid I let any of my children attempt some of them!” Mrs. Weasley said as she placed the books down at the foot of Hermione’s bed. “Can I ask dear, why are you so interested in this?”

 

Hermione thought about telling her the truth for the moment. Then she thought against it. No point in worrying everyone unnecessarily. “I’m just taking an interest in wizarding family history.” The lie was bitter on Hermione’s tongue. “Can never learn too much.”

 

Mrs. Weasley gave her a heartwarming smile and patted her bushy hair. “You are right there, Hermione. Keep the books as long as you need. They were just gathering dust otherwise.”

 

Hermione spent the rest of the night reading through the books, finding nothing more interesting than family cleaning spells. As the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon, she finally found something that could help.

 

_Nacti Puritas_

_This most powerful spell will help distinguish a child of the Old Ones. The Old Ones are the purest of lines, families who can trace their line back as far as time can go. Very few families can claim their heritage to be that old, but the Prewitt’s, along with the Malfoy’s, Blacks, and several other prominent families can lay claim to this heritage. Just point the wand at oneself and chant Nacti Puritas three times. A blue light from the tip of one's wand shows a familial connection to these families, a red light shows no connection, and a violet light shows you are the descendant of two joined lines. A brown light will shine if a muggleborn should try this spell._

 

Hermione read the verse several times before taking out her wand. Aiming it at her sternum, she whispered the incantation three times just as the instructions told her to.

 

The light shined violet.

 

Hermione stayed up in her shared room for the rest of the day, pain and confusion spreading through her body. If she needed any further proof that what her father had said to her was true, then that was it.

 

She was related to that MONSTER that was attempting to kill her best friend. He was her cousin! And the fact that her father had been so nonchalant about it… as if every parent told their child they were related to the darkest wizard of all time!

 

It was later that evening when Harry and Rn had come upstairs with food for her. That was when she had told them. That was when they had laughed.

 

She felt as if she had been betrayed by everyone. How was she supposed to help that this was happening to her? They acted as if Harry was the only one who was able to have problems in their life.

 

She spent the remainder of the holidays to herself after that, coming down for meals when needed, but otherwise wandering the open fields that surrounded the Burrow or sitting in her room. No one even seemed to notice her odd behavior, and that bothered her even more.

 

She kept to herself as they sat on the Hogwarts Express for their sixth year, her head in one of the new textbooks. Maybe they just thought it best to leave her alone as she was studying. However, they never bothered leaving her alone to study before. Maybe they thought she was going insane. She definitely felt like she was going insane.

 

As the sun began to set, they all changed into their robes. By the time, the train had reached Hogsmeade Station the two boys were in a lively conversation about the latest Quidditch World Cup. It was apparently less drama-filled than the one they went to unless you count Bulgaria’s Veela mascots attempting to start an orgy with the opposing team as less drama.

 

They all got into a carriage together and Hermione shivered now that she realized she could see the thestrals that pulled the carriages towards the castle. She realized she was much happier not knowing they were there than she was now being able to see them, and knowing why she could see them.

 

The ride to the castle seemed to take forever. The boys continued to babble on about the World Cup, and she continued to sit in silence.

 

Once they were there, she sat down silently in her spot. The usual start of term meeting started, and then a froglike woman gave her speech. Normally Hermione would pay attention to such things, but her mind was still so jumbled from her recent discovery. How could she have not known any of this? How could her father have hidden this from her? She could naturally understand why her mother had said nothing. How could she if she didn’t remember anything? Her father had absolutely no excuse, though. He should have told her sooner.

 

They finally went upstairs to bed. Somehow Hermione managed to fall fast asleep.

 

The next few months sped past. Other than Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were normal. The new teacher had a strict no magic in class policy. How were they supposed to learn unless they practiced the practical aspects as well? Harry, of course, caused more trouble than was strictly necessary and wound up with several detentions with the teacher Gryffindor had dubbed “The Toad”.

 

It seemed the months flew by though and then suddenly it was Christmas.

 

Hermione had opted to go home for the holidays. Not that she planned to spend much time there, but there were things she had to do.

 

She gave her mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek the moment she got home. She felt terrible for leaving without saying goodbye when she left for the Burrow. Her father she pointedly ignored.

 

She had a few things she had to sort out, but she figured it would be best to spend the next few days with her mother first.

 

And that’s just what they did. They went shopping, to the movies, and a craft fair. They had lunch at what was soon dubbed “Their Restaurant”, and had Chinese take-out in front of the TV for dinner. All in all, it was probably the best couple of days Hermione could remember having in a very long time.

 

All too soon it was time to put Hermione’s plan into motion. She left a note for her mother telling her she was going to be away for the rest of the Christmas break, then held her arm out outside her house for the Knight Bus.

 

“Where you goin’ little lady?” The pimpled conductor asked in a bored voice.

 

“Grimmauld Place, please,” She said as quietly as possible. Even though it was noon, there were witches and wizards sleeping in beds all down the length of the bus.

 

“Here’s ya ticket then, little miss. If you will follow me, I’lls get you a bed and we’ll be on our way. We’s got a few stops to make first, but we’ll get ya there in good time, doncha worry ‘bout that.” The man spat a lot as he spoke, Hermione realized too late, and as she turned to follow him had to wipe the saliva from her face.

 

He led her to a bed at the back of the bus, using a flourish of his hand to indicate she was to sit down. Hermione could have sworn he had winked at her as well, but the man’s face was so deformed by his acne that it was hard to properly tell.

 

Hermione sat and the Knight bus sped off.

 

After an hour of the harrowing journey, the Knight Bus finally screeched to a halt at the entrance to Grimmauld Place. “Tha’ll be 14 sickles an’ 3 knuts little lady.” The conductor said as he held out a grimy hand. Hermione gingerly handed over the money to the conductor and stepped off the bus. She waited for the bus to speed away before she crossed the street and headed towards where she knew number 12 should be.

 

She stood at the spot between number 11 and number 13 and waited. She didn’t have to wait too long, soon the building began to creak and number’s 11 and 13 started to move apart. In no time at all, number 12 was before her.

 

It was as she quietly opened the front door (so as to not disturb the painting of Walburga Black), that she felt the first of her nerves setting in. This was it. She could point her wand at herself all that she wanted, but this was proof that she could see. That she could touch. It wasn’t much, but it would be a start.

 

Finally swallowing her nerves, Hermione went upstairs and into the drawing room. Located on the far wall she knew, was the tapestry that would reveal her fate. She walked up to the tapestry and searched for the area where her mother might be. She had never paid much attention to it before, but now as she looked at it, she could appreciate its beauty, even if she couldn’t appreciate the meaning behind it.

 

After scanning the tapestry from the top down, she finally found the only place her mother could be. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. Laughter bubbled up inside of her. It had been a joke all along! Obviously Molly had been in on it too, otherwise the spell from the book she had borrowed wouldn’t have told her such a result. It was obviously a very elaborate prank!

 

Hermione ran a hand down the ancient silk, feeling the gold thread under her fingers. It was clear only magic was holding this beautiful piece together. As she was doing this Hermione felt a strange tingling in her fingertips. Hermione looked at where her fingers were. Right between Sirius III and Regulus II another name appeared.

 

 

The picture was blasted, but a thin golden line connected her name to another.

 

Morfin Gaunt II.  
  
And a final golden thread went down to a final name.  
  
Hermione Gaunt.  
  
A shudder ripped through Hermione’s body. It was all there now. Obviously there was some magic that was locking the information until a family member touched it, but why?  
  
And how had Sirius never told her about any of this? Surely he knew that he was her Uncle.  
  
She dropped to the floor, her whole body shaking. She didn’t know what to do. Who to speak to. Suddenly she remembered her apparent Grandmother had a painting downstairs.  
  
Hermione picked herself up to her feet and slowly headed downstairs. She dreaded doing this. Apart from the high pitched screaming of the dreaded woman, Walburga Black was the only one who could confirm for sure what was truly going on.  
  
She stood in front of the curtained painting and with a final sigh pulled the string that would reveal the horrid painting.  
  
She stood in front of the curtained painting and with a final sigh pulled the string that would reveal the horrid painting.

 

“BLOOD TRAITORS! FILTH! MUDBLOOD SCUM! BISMURCHING THE NAME OF OUR MOST ANCIENT HOUSE! PEASANTS! LIARS! DREGS OF DECENT SOCIE-”

 

“SHUT UP!” Hermione screamed at the painting. It was the first time she had ever addressed the painting and Walburga Black silenced in shock. “I have questions I need to ask and you will answer. You will answer truthfully, and in as much detail as possible. Do you understand?”

 

The woman in the painting said nothing. She just crossed her arms and stared at Hermione with a look of disgust on her face. Hermione took that as acquiescence.

 

She decided to be as blunt as possible. “Are you my Grandmother?”

 

The woman in the painting sighed then looked directly at Hermione. “So what if I am? You are still nothing more than the child of a dumb woman who would have rather lived her life as a filthy muggle than live her life with her true family. I had a wonderful man picked out for your mother you know? He is married to her cousin now instead. You should have been born a Lestrange, not a Gaunt! Oh, but you have the blood of the Dark Lord in you, so I can’t hold that against you. You at least have magic, unlike that filth you call a father. My only Grandchild born to a squib. How ashamed your Grandfather was.”

 

“Why didn’t Sirius tell me, though? He met my parents once, how could he not recognize his own sister?” This was the thing that most confused Hermione.

 

“I obliviated the three of them. How could I let my two sons know that their sister was a traitor to our family? Of course, I now realize that it was all my fault. How could I have three children who could hate our family so much?” Walburga started to sob. “HOW COULD I HAVE LET MY FAMILY FALL TO SUCH DISGRACE? MY DAUGHTER MARRIED TO A SQUIB! MY ELDEST SON WISHING HE WAS A MUGGLE! MY YOUNGEST SON KILLING HIMSELF TRYING TO GET RID OF THE ONE MAN TO TRY AND BRING OUR WORLD BACK TO ITS FORMER GLORY! HOW COULD I HAVE FAILED?”

 

“Oh, will you stop wallowing in your own misery you stupid woman! Is there anyone else who can help me out? Answer my questions? No wonder all of your children wanted to get away from you!” Hermione had already had enough of this manic woman. There had to be someone else she could talk to.  
  
Walburga stopped her crying for a moment. With a sniffle she replied, “I have another painting in Malfoy Manor. I shall speak to my niece. Perhaps she will be able to deal with your ungrateful attitude.” The woman left the painting and returned a few minutes later.  
  
“You can go there and speak to her. Ever since that blasted old muggle lover placed a curse on this house she can no longer come here. No one else is there, so you need not worry about having yourself cursed for being the ungrateful blood traitor you are. Unless of course my gracious niece feels the need to.”  
  
Hermione didn’t even say goodbye. She just flicked her wand and the curtains closed on the painting.  
  
She could feel a headache coming on.

 


	2. Chapter 2

That was how Hermione found herself out the front of Malfoy Manor. Scared, angry, and unsure. Did she even really want these answers anymore? Couldn’t she just leave it as it was and go on with her life?

 

No. Deep in her heart Hermione knew she couldn’t just keep on not knowing. She had to know more of what was going on. She set a determined look on her face and raised her hand to open the gate. As she did this, the gate swung open of its own accord.

 

Hermione slowly made her way up the gravel drive towards the house. As she approached the stairs the wide double doors opened and out stepped an elegantly dressed woman in her mid-forties. Her blonde and black hair was pinned up in a sophisticated chignon and her robes were clearly the best money could buy. “Hermione dear. Come on in. I have tea waiting for us in the Lady’s Room. I shall explain everything there. My husband and son will not be home till this evening so we can speak as long as needed.” Narcissa Malfoy then promptly turned on her heel and walked into the house.

 

Hermione jogged up the stairs and followed the imposing woman, her second cousin, into the palatial house. There were paintings covering the walls and deep piled rugs covering the cold stone floors. It was hard for Hermione to imagine her childhood tormenter living in such a beautiful house.

 

Narcissa finally stepped into a beautifully decorated room. The walls were painted in a pastel pink, and the furniture was all in shades of pastel blue and purple. There were elegant flower arrangements in the corners of the room, and the back wall was made entirely of French windows. The view showed the picturesque landscape that surrounded Malfoy Manor.

 

“Take a seat, dear. I will answer whatever it is you have to ask. I know my aunt can be quite brusque, especially to those she considers undesirables.” Narcissa herself sat on a velvet chaise lounge and started to pour the tea into the delicate gold rimmed tea cups.

 

“I honestly don’t know where to start, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione said in a whisper as she sat down on the edge of the opposite couch. “This is all so overwhelming and I just don’t know what to ask or say. I don’t know if I even want to know everything. But I do want to know, but I just don’t know what to say at all!”

 

Narcissa took a sip of her tea before she spoke. “I can understand how you are feeling, child. And please, call me Narcissa, we are family after all.”

 

Hermione nodded and she too took a sip from her tea. It was sweet and strong, just how she liked it. She gave a grateful smile to Narcissa. “Mostly Narcissa, I don’t know if I even want to be a part of all of this. It is so much to take in. I am not who I thought I was at all. I am related to a vile and horrible man who has wanted to kill my friends and me for as long as I have known of this world.”

 

Narcissa looked at her sympathetically. “I am certainly glad that my husband is not here to hear that! I, of course, feel much like you do, though our circumstances are very different. I can see how you would be so perturbed to find out you are related to a man like The Dark Lord. Even on a good day, he is not easy to get along with. I have met him a few times since his return, and he is as cold to those he claims he holds dear, as he is to those he holds as an enemy.”

 

Hermione sighed and placed her teacup down. “What I really want to know the most is, why did no one know? Walburga told me she obliviated Sirius and Regulus, but you obviously know what is going on. We have met once before, but you never acknowledged me. Surely when you heard my name you would have known something. Hermione is not a common name. It is barely a muggle name, yet fairly common in the wizarding world. Did you not find it strange that a ‘mudblood’ like myself would have a wizarding name?”

 

“Hermione, it is more than that. How could I know? Yes, you have a wizarding name, a pureblood name. But how was I to know you were family? There is some resemblance now that I look hard. You have the Black curls for instance. And the eyes are Black eyes too. Remember how I was raised, though. Remember what it is I believe. You were a mudblood then. Why should I bother giving you even a cursory glance?” Narcissa took another sip of her tea. “Please take no offence, of course, none is intended. I believe now what I do because that is what I was raised to believe. It is what I know. Much like since you have joined our world you have been lead to believe my family and myself are evil. There are two sides to everything.”

 

Hermione just nodded. She could understand where Narcissa was coming from, but it was a hard pill for her to swallow. She knew of course that there were reasons behind why everyone does anything, but it was still hard to get the image out of her head that all Death Eaters and their families did was sit around and plot the demise of the light.

 

“Hermione dear. I can’t give you very much insight into everything that is happening. I don’t know the whole story. The only ones who do are your parents. I know my Aunt obliviated my cousin, but you should still talk to your father more on this.”

 

“I just don’t understand why he never said anything before now.” Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes. This would be the first time she had cried since this whole thing had started, but she didn’t want to cry in front of this woman. She barely knew her. She was the mother of the boy who had bullied her for as long as she had been in this world. The tears came anyway though. “I don’t understand why, after all this time, my father kept who I was a secret! I would never have told anyone. Except for perhaps Harry and Ron. And if he was going to lie, why not at least let me know I was a witch? Why let me suffer through years and years of bullying just because he couldn’t accept who he is? How was that fair on me at all?”

 

Narcissa came over and sat beside Hermione, wrapping a slender arm around her shoulder. “I don’t think your father meant to hurt you, dear. He was in a very tough position. If The Dark Lord knew he existed, he would have surely killed your family. Even if that didn’t happen, even if The Dark Lord didn’t come looking for you, then Dumbledore would have used you to draw him out, thinking perhaps that he would feel some kind of kinship to you. He might not have done the right thing, but he did the best he could.”

 

Hermione nodded and sniffled. It felt strange to be comforted by this woman, who until an hour ago had been a mortal enemy. “What do I do now?”

 

“What do you want to do, dear? You are of legal age now. You can carry on the way you are now. You could move into your ancestral home. The world is your oyster. Do what you feel you should.” Narcissa rubbed Hermione’s back as she started to sob. Everything was just so overwhelming. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing was the same anymore. Everything hurt and she was losing control of everything in her life.

 

Narcissa pulled her into a deeper hug. “If it helps Hermione, had I known we were kin sooner, I would have let you know. It wasn’t fair for you to grow up so ignorant.”

 

Hermione nodded, unable to talk. She just continued sobbing.

 

An hour had passed before Hermione finally managed to compose herself. She sat up and when what she had done finally registered in her mind, a deep flush spread across her face. Narcissa’s robes were covered in tears and snot from her sobbing. “Oh my gosh! I am so sorry!” Hermione pulled out her want to clean up the mess.

 

“It’s nothing dear. I have a child, I may not seem like it, but I was a very hands on mother when he was younger. I have been covered in a lot worse.” Narcissa pulled out her own wand and with a quick flick her robes were spotless again.

 

“Thank you so much for everything, Mrs. Malfoy. It really means a lot, all things considered.” Hermione gave her a wet smile.

 

“Think nothing of it. I am one of the few family you have left remaining to you that knows what it is like in our world. I can’t see either of my dear sisters feeling much like explaining too much to you. Or my niece. I will be honored if you would consider me a confidante. You are one of the brightest witches of your age dear. I won’t lie. There is a selfish purpose behind this as well. If I am seen with you, it will only do good things for my family’s name. That is not my only reason, though. You are blood. You are family. We are meant to look out for each other. And if you insist on using a title of respect, please call me Aunt. I only allow those I consider to be below me to call me Mrs. Malfoy.” Narcissa wrapped her up in another hug. It was surprisingly comforting. Just then, there were voices outside the door. Male voices. Voices Hermione recognized all too well.

 

The male Malfoy’s were home.

 

Hermione went ramrod straight. She jumped out of Narcissa’s arms and started to look around for somewhere to hide. The memories of the Battle at the Ministry of Magic were still fresh in her mind, and she distinctly recalled Malfoy Senior throwing curses her way. It had been a bad idea coming here, a very bad idea.

 

“Calm down dear. I shall talk to them. They won’t come in here. This is my space. They respect it. They might make as much noise as possible outside to get my attention, but they won’t come in. Go over there and wait till I get you.” With a final hug, Narcissa went to the door.

 

Hermione sat down on the chair Narcissa had motioned her to and waited. She was shaking slightly from a combination of fear and nerves.

 

Several minutes later, Narcissa returned. “Lucius would like to see you in the Drawing Room. Don’t worry dear. I will be there with you the whole time. He has promised me he will do nothing to harm you.”

 

Hermione followed Narcissa out of the room with trepidation. Less than a year ago the man she was about to see had tried to kill her. Had actually tried to murder her in cold blood. Now she was an extended part of his family.

 

They finally stepped into the drawing-room, and there he sat. Regal and imposing in a large leather wingback chair. Almost a throne. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair, his fingers meeting to create a pyramid. His face was completely blank of emotion.

 

Narcissa lead he to a couch beside her husband. She sat between them, keeping them at a slight distance. Gratitude flooded Hermione’s system when she did that. It felt nice to have someone on her side through all this.

 

“So, you believe you can waltz in here and claim to be kin to my wife do you? How do you prove this? You wouldn’t be the first piece of filth to try and do something like this to us in the past.” Lucius was straight to the point it would seem.

 

Anger filled her. How dare he think she would be here for such a preposterous reason! Did he really think she would be here if she didn’t have to be?  
  
“Lucius! I have it on good authority that she is who she claims! Walburga came to her portrait after having a discussion with this girl. Do you really think my Aunt would waste her time like that on a mudblood?” Narcissa was clearly angry herself with her husband. Hermione couldn’t help but flinch at the derogatory term.  
  
“I think the young lady can speak for herself Narcissa.” Lucius snapped. “Well? Why should we believe your story?”  
  
Hermione took a fortifying breath. She did not want to discuss this with this man, but it seemed she had very little choice.  
  
“My father came to me not long after the last battle,” She noticed with satisfaction Lucius flinched at the mention of the battle. “He explained to me that he was not a muggle, but in fact a squib. He has some magic, but he has no control of it. He told me how Walburga had obliviated my mother after when she had found out that she was in love with a squib, a squib who wanted to live as a muggle as well. That’s about it. He told me he could prove it by the Black Family Tree at Grimmauld Place. That’s about it.”  
  
Lucius sat there with a pensive look on his face after a few minutes he asked; “And what family did your father come from? I remember Norma Black. She may have been soft when it came to who she associated with, but never would she have considered marrying a mudblood. So this man must have been at least a half blood. Tell me, what line your father belonged to?”  
  
“I don’t see how that is important, husband. All that is important is that my cousin’s daughter has found her way back to her true family.” Narcissa responded, panic showing in her eyes.

 

Lucius’ eyes flashed with anger as he glared at Narcissa. “It is of the upmost importance! Unless you would trust Bellatrix or Rudolphus to find her a suitable match in the future, then let me ask the questions. If this girl is really a Black, then who she marries is of upmost importance. We cannot have her marrying someone who will dilute her bloodline!”  
  
Narcissa cowed to her husband’s anger. “Of course.” She said meekly.  
  
“So child, who were your father’s parents? It will be in your best interests to tell me now.”  
  
With a sigh, Hermione spoke quietly. “My Grandmother was Nemesis Carrow. My Grandfather was…” Hermione couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. She felt as if she was choking. “I can’t breathe!” She managed to squeak out.  
  
Narcissa stood. “Really Lucius, after everything you have put this poor girl through in the past, after everything you have trained your son to put this girl through… you think she will just simply answer your questions like we are having a pleasant morning tea?” The regal woman walked over to a small bar and produced a glass, with a flick of her wand, she filled it with water and brought it to Hermione. “I think that is enough for today.”  
  
“No Narcissa, it is not enough! It is important that we know these things!” Lucius stood and slammed his hands down on the table in front of him.  
  
“My grandfather was Morfin Gaunt.” Hermione whispered, half hoping Lucius wouldn’t hear her. She knew Narcissa knew, and that didn’t bother her. But she felt as if Lucius shouldn’t. With his connection to Voldemort, it seemed a very bad idea.  
  
“Get out.” Lucius’ voice was deceptively soft. “Get out of my house with your lies and your filthy blood. I will not have you taking advantage of my wife’s kindness anymore.”  
  
“No, Lucius. She is welcome here whenever she likes. Do you think I do not know my own blood? Can you not see the family resemblance? How many people know what my cousin did? How many people even remember Morfin Jr? Like all pureblood scandals it was soon forgotten. Three children in the same generation disowned. It’s easy to forget one of them. Especially when they haven’t been seen in public. Where else could Hermione gotten her information from, but the source themselves?” Narcissa was out of breath after her rant. “She is my family, and I say she stays as long as she wishes to.”  
  
“If your story is true, you are aware I will need to tell The Dark Lord.” Lucius said with a horrifying smirk.  
  
Hermione felt her heart jump into her throat. “Please! No! I want nothing to do with him.”  
  
Lucius’ smirk grew bigger. “But surely you wish to meet your great uncle? After all you wish to see your cousin. Well there is one final way to find out if it is lies coming from your filthy mouth, or the truth. Let me call him.”  
  
In the space of a few seconds, Lucius had flicked his wand at Hermione, wrapping her body in tight rope.  
  
Lucius rolled up his sleeve. “I am sure the Dark Lord will be very interested in your lies, Mudblood.”


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione tried to scream, but it was like her throat was sealed tight. She didn’t want to see Voldemort, she didn’t want anything to do with him. She just wanted to go home and pretend like nothing had ever happened. She wouldn’t tell anyone else. No one would believe her anyway!

 

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as if a Dementor had entered. She looked around and noticed a window on the far wall had opened. Black smoke was gathering into the room, moving towards them. Finally, it stopped next to Lucius. It started to take on a humanoid shape, then it solidified. Hermione was face to face with Lord Voldemort.

 

“No, please no.” She managed to whimper out.

 

“A present for me Lucius?” Voldemort’s voice was more like a hiss, extending on the ‘s's and almost swallowing the vowels.

 

“Such as it is, My Lord.” Lucius bowed, Narcissa gave a small curtsey but remained silent. Hermione realized that as much as Narcissa would stand up to her husband for her, she would not stand up to Voldemort. Hermione was on her own. Why had she come here in the first place? Why couldn’t she have just left well enough alone?

 

“Do tell me more.” Voldemort started to move around the couch Hermione was trapped on.

 

“This mudblood is one of Potter’s friends My Lord. She has come here with a dramatic lie claiming to be kin of yours. She says her grandfather was Morfin Gaunt, My Lord.” Lucius simpered. If Hermione hadn’t been so afraid she would have thought that Lucius sounded like a school boy dobbing in another student.

 

“I see.” Voldemort stood in front of her, a bony finger aimed towards her face. He ran it down the soft skin of her cheek before turning to Lucius. “Leave us. I shall speak to her alone.”

 

Lucius bowed again, and Narcissa curtsied. They left silently, leaving Hermione alone with the darkest wizard in over one thousand years.

 

Voldemort took claim of the seat Lucius had previously occupied. He just stared at Hermione for a few minutes, looking her over. After what seemed like forever he pulled out his wand. Hermione closed her eyes and held her breath. Her life was done. She didn’t know if he was going to torture her first, or just kill her outright, but it was over.

 

“Finite Incantatem.” Voldemort hissed.

 

Hermione felt the ropes drop from her body. She slowly opened her eyes and started massaging her arms and legs to get the blood back to flowing through them.

 

“So you are my great niece. I won’t deny I have knowledge of your existence. It would have been remiss of me to neglect to keep tabs on any remaining family I had left. Tell me how you came to have this knowledge. The last I knew my darling nephew was living the life of a muggle with his obliviated wife.” Voldemort reclined back into the chair, his arms resting in his lap. He looked curious and surprising not at all murderous.

 

“I… well that is… my father told me at the start of the last holidays. After… after the battle-” Hermione stuttered. Voldemort cut her off.

 

“Yes, after the battle where I came so very close to killing that stupid boy. After that battle where Dumbledore forced me out into the open. So you're good for nothing father finally told you did he?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Hermione whispered. She didn’t know why she was still attempting to have a civil conversation with this man. Why wasn’t she trying to kill him? Why wasn’t she trying to escape?

 

“So after your worthless squib of a father finally told you who you really were, you went and tried to disprove him, correct?” Voldemort’s directness was unnerving for Hermione.

 

“Yes, sir. I went to the Black family home and looked at the family tapestry. A spell had been used to hide my mother from everyone. When I touched it, it revealed my mother, father and myself on the tapestry.” Hermione felt herself starting to calm down. Voldemort’s directness reminded her of school. It was just another knowledge quiz.

 

“And then what happened? I presume you spoke to Walburga’s painting? And don’t kid yourself, child. I have been to Grimmauld Place. If it wasn’t for that damned Fidelius Charm on the property I would have killed Harry Potter long ago.”

 

Hermione shivered as this maniac talked so casually about killing her best friend. But she was in too deep now. She had to continue. “Yes, I spoke to her. She told me to talk to Narcissa about it. That Narcissa would be able to answer my questions better.”

 

“And did she?” Voldemort stood and went to the bar. He took to tumblers from underneath the bench and with a wave of his hand, a bottle of spirits flew to him. Hermione jumped at such casual use of Wandless magic.

 

“Uh… yes, sir. She was very informative. There wasn’t much else to say, but she did help me come to terms with it a bit more.” Voldemort came towards her with a glass she could only assume was firewhiskey. He handed her one. Hesitantly she took it.

 

“It is safe to drink. I haven’t poisoned it.” Voldemort said with almost a half-smile.

 

“Its just that I… that is… I have never drunk alcohol before.” Hermione felt her cheeks flush at such an admission. It wasn’t strictly true. Her parents let her have a glass of wine at Christmas each year, and her father had often let her have a sip of his beer when he watched the World Cup on the television. But she had never drunk anything stronger.

 

“Then I would recommend you sip it.” Was Voldemort’s only response.

 

They sat in silence for a few moments. Hermione took a sip of the firewhiskey. She had nothing left to lose. If he had poisoned it, then so be it. If he really wanted to kill her then he would. There was nothing Hermione could do to stop it.

 

As she sipped it her first reaction was to wince. It burnt. It felt like her mouth was on fire. As she swallowed she felt the fire go down her esophagus and hit her stomach. Then a minty feeling filled her system like she had just brushed her teeth. It was a very strange combination.

 

“What do you think? If I know Lucius this was probably his 100-year-old.” Voldemort at and watched her as he spoke, his expression blank.

 

“Its… different sir.” Was all Hermione could manage to reply.

 

She felt so out of her depth. She was so out of control. She just wanted to go home.

 

“Well child, what do you wish to do now?” Voldemort finally came back to the topic at hand.

 

“I don’t know. I need to think about it. Everything is so overwhelming.” Hermione started to shake and she took another sip of the firewhiskey to steady her nerves. It wasn’t as bad the second time round.

 

“Naturally. I can see how this would all be so confusing for you. We will speak soon. Give Lucius and Narcissa my regards.” Voldemort stood. “And if I were you, I would not speak of this to anyone else. I am aware you have told your friends already but tell no one else. It will do you no good.” With that, he went to the window and in the blink of an eye was gone in a cloud of black smoke.

 

Narcissa entered not long afterward. She sat beside Hermione and wrapped her arms around her. “I am sorry dear. Had I known my husband would call The Dark Lord here, I would not have told him so readily.”

 

“It’s okay,” Hermione whispered. Her whole body was shaking still. She had so much to think about.

 

“Did you want to stay here the night and get some sleep, dear. It might help you think things over.”

 

Hermione thought about it but realized it would be a terrible idea. “No thank you. Though I appreciate the offer, I feel like it would just be a very bad idea.”

 

Narcissa nodded. “I understand. Would you like me to apparate you home then? It will be much quicker.”

 

“Yes please.” Hermione took one final gulp from the glass in her hand. It really wasn’t that bad a drink. She could understand why so many people drank it.

 

Narcissa helped Hermione to stand then wrapped her in a final hug. “I would also like to have words with your father if that is okay with you? He and I seem to have a few things to discuss.”

 

“Okay. I think.” Hermione couldn’t fully process anything right now.

 

With her arms still wrapped firmly around Hermione, Narcissa apparated to Hermione’s house.

 

Her parents were sitting in the living room when they arrived. Her mother jumped and gave a scream of surprise, however, John Granger just sat still.

 

“I should have expected this,” He mumbled then stood. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

 

Hermione opted to stay in the living room with her mother. She was never good when she saw magic, and now she was beginning to understand why. It made sense when there was a wall blocking off her memories of the magical world.

 

They sat together in silence, just staring at the TV. Mrs. Granger playing with Hermione’s hair. A short while after a male scream was heard from the kitchen. Hermione and Mrs. Granger jumped to their feet, running towards the noise.

 

John Granger, Morfin Gaunt lay on the ground twitching in pain. Fury was written across Narcissa’s face. “You DARE speak to me like that squib? Who on earth do you think you are? If I did not respect your wife and daughter so much I would kill you, you lying maggot. How could you?”

 

Mrs. Granger ran to her husband and cradled his head in her lap. “What on earth did you do to him you crazy woman?” She screamed at Narcissa.

 

“I’m so sorry, Norma. It was in your best interest. You might not remember, but I promise you it was.” Narcissa gave Mrs. Granger a sorrowful look. She turned to Hermione. “There is more to what your father said than was strictly true. I am sorry. If he does not tell you the all of it, come to me. I will have the memories of his confession in a pensive for you.” With that Narcissa apparated.

 

Mrs. Granger began to shake on the floor. It was clear that memories were trying to fight their way to the surface of her mind, but the obliviate that Walburga Black had used on her was preventing them from coming through.

 

“Who is Norma, why did she call me Norma?” Mrs. Granger began to whimper as she rocked back and forward, her husband’s head still in her lap.

 

John Granger groaned. “Blasted woman, took me unawares. Why would you bring her here, Hermione?”

 

Hermione just glared at her father. She didn’t bother answering, just turned on her heel and stomped upstairs.

 

Her father’s actions were still affecting everything. She should have realized Narcissa might bring memories back to her mother. But even that was her father’s fault! If he had never done what he had, then her mother would never be at risk to mental damage. It was all his fault!

 

Hermione sat at the foot of her bed. It was clear that Narcissa had used a Crucio on him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was one of the Unforgivable spells, but at the same time, it was the least of the three. There were other spells that caused just as much pain. The only reason the Crucio was Unforgivable was because there was no known way to treat the pain afterward.

 

She realized she hoped her father was suffering right now and felt a shot of fury at herself for thinking such a thing. What kind of person did that make her? To hope someone was suffering? What was wrong with her?

 

She realized it was probably because it had been such a long day, and combined with the firewhiskey her mind was probably not working as properly as it should. Crawling up her bed she lay down under the coverers fully dressed. She needed sleep. She could wake up in the morning with a clear head.

 

Hermione slept later than she had intended. When she woke she looked over at the alarm clock by her bed. It was already 10:30! She jumped out of bed and rushed to the adjoining bathroom. She flicked her wand at the shower to get it started and stripped down and jumped under the warm jets of water. She began to think over everything that had happened yesterday.

 

She confirmed that her father was related to Voldemort, her mother was a Black, and in turn related to so many more people who wanted her dead. Narcissa Malfoy wasn’t half as bad as she had thought she would be, though still extremely prejudiced. And her meeting with Voldemort! How she had come out of that unscathed she was not sure, but she was scared. She could sense his brain ticking away, scheming.  
  
Then finally what had happened in the kitchen when Narcissa had brought her home. What had she meant by there was more to the story? What wasn’t her father telling her?  
  
She was out of the shower and dressed fifteen minutes later. She decided to head down to the kitchen and grab some toast, before heading to Diagon Alley. She had some supplies she had to purchase before she went back to school in a few days, and what better time than today to purchase them?  
  
Her father was sitting at the kitchen table when she entered. She made a point to ignore him. If what Narcissa said was true, then he had to be the one to tell her. He had to be the one to start the discussion. Yet he sat there in silence and said nothing. It wasn’t until she was about to leave the room with her tea and toast that he spoke.  
  
“Why did you bring that vile woman here?”  
  
Hermione turned and glared at him. “What is it to you? You were the one to tell me to go searching for the answers I sought, and I found them. What did she mean when she told me you hadn’t told me the whole truth?”  
  
Morfin Gaunt Jr just shook his head. “That woman has no idea what she is talking about. She has always been unstable.”  
  
“That would be her sister you are thinking of. Tell me the truth!” Hermione slammed her mug on the bench. Hot tea spilt everywhere. She pulled out her wand and cleaned the mess up.  
  
“There is no more to say. And I want you to stay away from that family. They are dangerous.” Her father refused to meet her eye.  
  
“I am well aware of how dangerous they are, _father_. I had the pleasure of having a one on one conversation with our dear uncle yesterday. Thank you for the concern by the way. I managed to come out unscathed.” Hermione’s whole body shook with fury. She could not stand to even look at the man in front of her right now.  
  
“Stay away from them, they are dangerous.” Her father repeated.  
  
“Why? Is there something you are trying to hide? Why are you so determined that I don’t go back there?”  
  
“Just don’t. That’s all I can say.” Her father stood then. “It is in all of our best interests if you don’t.”  
  
“Why is that? Are you afraid they will ruin the happy little family life you built on your lies? Well it is a bit late for that. Thank you for finally telling me the truth, but it’s too little too late. You have no influence over me now. I can’t respect you. I can’t love you. Not after everything you have put me through.” Hermione turned on her heel, he breakfast forgotten. She would go shopping, then go back to Malfoy Manor. She might send an owl while she was in Diagon Alley to let Narcissa know she would be there.  
  
Her father stayed at the table. Surprisingly to Hermione, she felt nothing for the way she had spoken to her father. She was not upset with herself. It was the most disrespectful she had ever been to either of her parents. But it was just so hard to look at that man and still see her father. He had lied so much, let her be hurt so badly. All because he couldn’t accept his own truths.  
  
Hermione readied herself for her trip to Diagon Alley. She made sure she had a pouch for her money, her wand, and a bag to place her purchases.  
  
She would go the muggle way. She found it soothing to catch the bus and the train. It gave her time to think.  
  
As she stepped out the front door she nearly jumped in surprise. Standing at the front gate, in jeans and a muscle shirt was Draco Malfoy.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione just stopped and stared for several moments, not even daring to blink. What on earth was Draco bloody Malfoy doing at her house?

 

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Um… My mother sent me here. She said maybe we could talk and get to know each other seeing as we are distant family. Third cousins isn't it?”

 

Hermione shook her head. Clearly the world was ending. “Ahhh… yes, something like that.” Was all Hermione could get out.

 

“So, are you going somewhere? Could I accompany you? Maybe you could show me around a muggle shop or something?” Draco looked really awkward. He had his hands deep in his pockets and was playing with a stone on the footpath with his old trainer clad foot. It was a strange sight to behold.

 

Thinking on the things she was meant to be doing, she realized she still had the whole day ahead of her. They could go somewhere muggle, have an early lunch. It would be interesting to see the ferret squirm in the muggle world.

 

“Come on then,” Hermione said in a clipped voice as she walked towards the gate. “I’m guessing your mother or father told you all about how I am an acceptable human being now.”

 

When she reached him, he replied. “Well, not in so many words. Mother didn’t go into too much detail. She just said there had been some things that happened in the past, and because of that, you were raised as a muggle. If it’s any consolation, I am sorry for being so rude to you for so long.”

 

Hermione laughed. “Sorry? No, you aren’t. Not truly. You might be sorry you were calling a pureblood a mudblood, but you aren’t sorry you said those things in general. The only reason you are here is because you were told to do so by your mother. If you didn’t know anything that was going on right now, you would still be sitting in your big Manor thinking up ways to make mine, and those like me lives miserable. Admit it.”

 

Draco had the foresight to look abashed. They started heading towards the bus stop. Hermione planned on making this as uncomfortable for him as possible. With a sigh, Draco turned to Hermione. “I won’t lie. You are correct there, for the most part. I do have other things to do other than bully you, the Weasel, and the Boy – Who – Won’t – Die. I can’t help that, though. That’s who I am. That’s how my family is. It’s how I was raised. If you can forgive my mother for those things, surely you can forgive me?” He almost sounded hopeful.

 

Hermione gave him a sideways glance and was silent while she thought about it. What harm could come from it at the end of the day? She could have a new friend, who was also highly intelligent despite his personality flaws. Perhaps she could even sway his mind. “I’ll give you a chance, but you have a lot of things to do before I consider forgiving you. There is too much history between us. I have met your mother once before yesterday. The worst she did was turn her nose up at me. You… you have made my life a living hell. It is a lot to forgive.”

 

Draco nodded in understanding. They finally reached the bus stop. Hermione stopped and waited.

 

“What are you doing? Why don’t you just hold your wand arm out so the bus can come?” Draco asked curiously.

 

“It doesn’t work that way in the muggle world. Buses have different schedules and routes they take. Our bus will be here in about five minutes. I can’t stand being late, and there are 20 minutes between each bus. So this way is easier.” Hermione stood and waited for Draco’s reaction. She wasn’t disappointed.

 

“But, why don’t you just fly to London? It's quicker right? Why would you want to be stuck on a filthy bus with filthy muggles?”

 

Hermione gave him a cheeky smile. “Oh, the bus doesn’t go all the way to London. We will be catching this bus to Northwood Hills, then getting the Tube! How exciting is that!” She finished sarcastically.

 

“You don’t need to speak to me like I’m a child Granger. Also, do I still call you Granger? I don’t know any purebloods called Granger. Is Granger really your name?” He asked curiously.

 

“No, it seems it is not. However I don’t think I trust you enough to tell you, so just call me Hermione. I’ll try and refrain from calling you ferret.”

 

Draco seemed to have to think about it for a minute. “How about we try and just start again.” He held out his hand. “How are you? My name is Draco Malfoy.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help the giggle that rose in her throat. There seemed to be a wholly charming side to Malfoy she had never seen before. “Hi, Draco Malfoy. I’m Hermione. I am good thank you, and yourself?”

 

“Damnit. I thought I could trick your last name out of you. Oh well. Is that our bus coming? How am I gonna pay? I don’t have any muggle money.” Draco gave her a sideways smirk. “How about if you pay for my trip to London, I’ll shout you lunch at the Leaky Cauldron?”

 

“Yes, that’s our bus. And I suppose that is fair. It will be fun to see the reactions of people we might know if we see them in Wizarding London.” Hermione said as she returned his smirk.

 

As the bus pulled up in front of them Draco gave her a strange look. “Well, it seems my smirk is a Black family thing because you just returned mine in an exact way. That was just creepy! How did I never notice that?”

 

Hermione gave the bus driver the money for the fares and found two seats for them to sit down before she replied. “I would think it would have something to do with the fact that you never did anything around me that would make me want to smirk or smile.”

 

Draco wiped the seat with his handkerchief before he gingerly sat down. “This bus really is disgusting! The driver is picking his nose! And that man over there looks like he hasn’t washed in ten years! How can you stand it?”

 

Hermione shrugged. “It’s not so bad when you are used to it. My parents refused to drive me anywhere once I turned thirteen. They said it would help me become a more independent person. I felt much the same as you when I first started getting the bus, but you get used to it.”

 

They sat in silence for most of the trip. There wasn’t too much to say. They didn’t know each other. They didn’t have any shared interests as far as the other knew. It was only when they were nearly at the train station that Draco spoke. “So have you told your friends about all this? How did they take it?”

 

Hermione though for a moment the best way to put it into words. She didn’t want to give the impression that her friends were terrible people, however much they may have made her feel bad about this. “They are skeptical, which is understandable. It’s a lot of information to try and take in. I have no choice but to accept it. But they… they seem to think that it is just all in my head. Post O.W.L.S stress or something like that.”

 

Draco shook his head. “That’s not very fair on you, though. I mean, without any proof other than the word of some musty old painting, my family has been able to accept you as you really are. But your best friends can’t even take your word? I know there are spells to check for bloodlines, have you tried doing one in front of them?”

 

Hermione nodded. “They think I may have gotten the spell wrong.”

 

Draco snorted at that. “Please. You? Get a spell wrong? If that was the case you would have knocked yourself off by now. No offense.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well that’s a bit extreme, but I see what you mean. I appreciate that you and your family have been so accepting. Except maybe your father. But you and your mother have both been so surprisingly nice about this all.”

 

Draco gave a shrug. “I think my father came around when he didn’t find your dead body in the Drawing Room. If He believes you, then it must be true.”

 

That thought made Hermione shudder. She didn’t want to think about Voldemort.

 

Draco continued. “I don’t even know why father insisted on you meeting him? It’s strange don’t you think?”

 

Suddenly Hermione realized Draco knew more than he was letting on. “What do you know about all this? Be honest now.”

 

The bus stopped. They were at the train station. They departed the bus before Draco replied. “Look, I may have been listening at the door when you were talking to The Dark Lord. We all were. Mother because she wanted to make sure nothing happened to you, and Father to see how long it would take for Him to curse you. I was worried too. I might agree with his ideas on purebloods, but I just don’t have the stomach for torture. Not on someone I know anyway.”

 

“So you know who my family is then?” Hermione asked with trepidation.

 

Draco nodded. “But that isn’t the reason I am here. Honest. Like I said, Mother thought it would be a good idea for us to get to know each other. Something about though we are distant, we Black’s should stick together or some rubbish like that.”

 

Hermione gave a nervous laugh. “So it doesn’t bother you that I am related to him?”

 

“All purebloods are related to each other in some way. It’s kind of like the English nobility. They all intermarry and marry cousins and cousins of cousins and so on. It’s what I have been raised to expect for myself as well. I’ll probably wind up wed to Pansy or Millicent.” He said, then gave a shudder. “If I had a choice I’d stay single. Especially with options like Millicent.”

 

Hermione giggled. “I can’t blame you there.”

 

Hermione walked to the ticket machine and purchased two tickets to Kings Cross. “All you have to do is stick it in the slot at the gate then walk through. Your ticket will pop out the top.”

 

Draco gave it a cursory look. “How does it know we will get off at the right station, though? We could get off at any of the stations?”

 

Hermione smiled at his curiosity. There is a code printed into the card. The code says which station we got on at and which station we will be leaving. It won’t let us get out any other gates except the one at Kings Cross.”

 

Draco nodded, however, he still looked confused. “So I just put it in this hole here?”

 

“Yup. And when you walk through it should pop out the top.”

 

Draco did as he was instructed. He jumped slightly when the gates opened. “I didn’t think muggles knew magic?”

 

“They don’t.” It was taking all of Hermione’s willpower to not laugh. “However they are very good at making their own form of magic. They mix highly advanced math, which is kind of like arithmancy, and mechanics, which is making inanimate objects animate. Through the combination of the two, along with some electricity, they can recreate a lot of things that we take for granted in the wizarding world.”

 

“That’s actually really fascinating. I think I might be beginning to understand Arthur Weasley’s interest in muggles.” A man in front of him stopped and started to throw up right in front of them. “Or maybe not.” Draco was looking a very bright shade of green.

 

Hermione grabbed his arm and dragged him along. “It’s best to just ignore people like that around here. He is probably a drunk or on drugs or something.”

 

Draco let her drag him down to the train platform. The train was just pulling in. She pulled him on as well then sat down. He took the seat opposite her.

 

“This is my first time on a train other than the Hogwarts Express,” Draco said nervously. “No one else is going to vomit are they?”

 

“They might. You never know with all these filthy muggles.” Hermione said sardonically.

 

Draco looked abashed. “Well, I am sure they aren’t all bad. But the people I have seen haven’t really given me the greatest first impression.”

 

Hermione had to concede the truth in that department. She tried to explain. “Much like there are many people in the Wizarding world who are less than desirable. And I am not talking about muggleborns. I am talking about the drunks, the addicts, the cutpurses. It is the same here in the muggle world. Your problem is that you believe that everyone is filth, or below you. So you are only seeing that which fits your impression of the muggle world. You didn’t even notice the normal people going about their day.”

 

“How can I not though? That man on the bus absolutely reeked!”

 

Hermione gave him a pointed look. “Yes, but he is one of the millions, of billions. If every single muggle was like that then there would be a lot less of them. And in turn, a lot fewer muggleborns. I can assure you I bathe more regularly than I am sure either of your cronies do. And don’t even try and deny it.”

 

Hermione was right of course, Draco had no answer to that.

 

They stayed in a companionable silence for the rest of the train trip. Draco was a bit more relaxed on the train, having gotten used to rail transport from the Hogwarts Express. He briefly made a passing comment that he was disappointed no one had come with candy and drinks, but other than that he was relaxed.

 

Hermione took the time to study him. She supposed he was attractive in a pointy kind of way. _Angular_ her brain helpfully supplied. _His face is angular_. He was currently looking out the window, so there was no risk of him catching her at her observations. His face was relaxed and his eyes were half – lidded. He almost looked like he was falling asleep. He looked innocent. Hermione snorted. There was no way he was innocent. Hermione had heard the whispers around the Great Hall and even in the Gryffindor common room. ‘The Prince of Slytherin’ they called him; or the more common term ‘The Slytherin Sex God’.

 

Draco had looked up at her snort. “See something you like, Gaunt?”

 

Hermione cringed as he used what she supposed was now her surname. “I thought we had agreed to call me Hermione?”

 

Draco gave a nonchalant shrug. “I figured I’d see how it rolled off the tongue in a setting it would be safe. I think I like Hermione better. You are too pudgy to call Gaunt.”

 

Hermione spluttered. “I am not pudgy! I am at a perfectly healthy weight thank you very much!”

 

Draco started laughing. “Calm down now. I wasn’t implying you were overweight. Just that you had more weight on you to justify calling you gaunt. Your face is full, and you have curves. Not overweight. Just not gaunt. The surname just doesn’t fit you anyway.”

 

Hermione didn’t know how to feel about the compliment, backhanded as it might have been. So she just said nothing and gave him a glare. Stupid ferret making fun of her again.

 

 _This time is different though isn’t it? He wasn’t bullying you. In fact, it is probably the closest he has come to ever giving you a compliment. He was just having a bit of fun at your expense. Like friends do._ Her mind gave its input.

 

“Shut up,” She muttered to herself.

 

“But I didn’t say anything!” Draco objected.

 

“Not you. I was talking to myself.” Hermione blushed when she realized what she had done.

 

“So I figured you might be a bit insane. Gaunt and Black in one person. They must be absolutely bonkers!” Draco tried to joke.

 

“Can we please stop talking about me being related to that man? It’s bad enough I’m related to you!” Hermione exclaimed.

 

Draco held a hand to his heart. “You wound me! And besides, we aren’t that closely related. It doesn’t really count.”

 

Hermione sniffed and turned her head from him. His dramatics was starting to get on her nerves.

 

“Well, that attitude is definitely the Black side of the family. I have seen Aunt Bellatrix pull that face more times than I care to count.” Draco said with a cheeky grin.

 

Hermione slapped his leg. “Don’t ever compare me to that nutcase! I am nothing like her!”  
  
“Oww! How are you still this violent! Further proof you belong in the families you do if you ask me!” Draco kept grinning at her, and unfortunately for Hermione, his grin was contagious, she returned it.   
  
The last ten minutes of the trip were once again silent. They departed the station with surprising ease. Draco remembered how to use the ticket machine and they stepped out onto the busy streets of muggle London.  
  
“You sure you don’t want to try some muggle food? It’s not all bad. I can even introduce you to a muggle tradition!” Hermione exclaimed suddenly. She had the craziest urge to take Draco to McDonalds.  
  
“I promised I’d pay though. I don’t have any muggle money at all.” Draco replied.  
  
Hermione pulled out her purse. “No sweat. I’ll pay, then you can give me the galleons. I need to do some shopping later in Diagon Alley, so it saves me a trip to Gringotts.”

 

“I suppose we could try it. Is it going to be terrible?” Draco asked, panic shaking his voice.

 

“Terrible is the wrong word for it. It will be an experience.” Hermione gave him a reassuring smile. “Come on. I’m sure you will like it. Most boys your age do.”  
  
“Who you calling a boy?” Draco puffed out his chest. “I might be underage still, but I am no boy.” He winked at her.  
  
All Hermione could do was roll her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

McDonalds had certainly been an experience that Hermione wouldn’t forget for a very long time.

 

They had stood in the line and waited to order. At first Draco was startled by how many options there were. It was obvious he was used to the very high-end restaurants that only served three or four different things.

 

“How come there is no entrée menu?” He asked first.

 

“Not many people who eat here get entrée’s as such. However, the meals come with hot chips so if you wanted to look at that as an entrée I suppose you could.” Hermione had replied.

 

“Why do they serve chicken nuggets to adults? That’s a child’s food!” Was his next remark.

 

“Do you not have a food from your childhood you would not like to forget? I know I do. And it so happens that it is chicken nuggets.” Hermione laughed.

 

Draco was silent for a moment as he contemplated the menu. “Why do they come in different sizes? Why not just have the one size for everyone?”

 

“That’s a question most people ask. But it just comes down to preference. It doesn’t change the size of the main part of the meal, the burger or the amount of nuggets you get. But a large for example has more chips than a medium or a small, and has a larger drinks well.” Hermione couldn’t help but think this was like taking a child to McDonalds.

 

“So I might try the, what does it say? McChicken Sandwich?” Draco finally decided.

 

“Sure thing. Do you want chips? And what size?” Hermione couldn’t help but laugh internally. It seemed like such a hard decision for him to make.

 

“Maybe a medium. That way it’s not too much and not too little.”

 

Hermione nodded then went to the cashier to order.

 

Once they had their meals they went and found a place to sit down. Draco looked around him in disgust. “Does no one clean the tables around here? There is food all over half of them!”

 

Hermione gave him a derisive snort. “Have you seen how busy it is around here? Between serving and cooking the food, especially in the time people expect their food to come to them in a place like this, there isn’t as much time as in your fancy restaurants to clean the tables.”

 

Draco gave a shrug of his shoulders. Hermione took a serviette and wiped off the table of some stray lettuce. “There you go, sir. Your table is ready.” She snapped sarcastically. It was going to take her a very long time to remember to be nice to him.

 

Draco though surprisingly took it in stride. With a lopsided smirk, he gave her a genial bow. “If my lady would care to sit?” He said in his most snobbish voice. Hermione found herself once again rolling her eyes at him.

 

They ate in silence. Hermione enjoying her chicken nuggets, and Draco ate with a strange look on his face. Once they had finished their meal he looked up at her. “It was delicious. But so oily. Do people really eat like this every day? Why don’t they at least serve salads of some form?”

 

“There are people that eat this every day, but you shouldn’t. It’s okay in moderation, but really bad for you every day.” Hermione said as she wiped her fingers on a serviette. “I only have it about once or twice a year. Just when I’m in London. Surely you have something. A guilty pleasure so to speak.”

 

Draco’s smile turned lecherous. “Of course I do. However, I was raised better than to speak of such things in front of a lady.”

 

Hermione threw her serviette at him. “You are a pig! How your mother managed to teach you to be a gentleman at all still surprises me.”

 

Draco laughed again. “Come on Hermione, let’s go to Diagon Alley.”

 

They spent the better part of the afternoon wandering around Diagon Alley. The whole time Draco was a perfect gentleman. He held doors open for her and helped carry her bags. He waited patiently while they were in Flourish and Blotts while she perused every book in the store and even purchased a rather rare book on the magical properties of wand cores for her. By the time they were done, the sun was beginning to set.

 

“Damn it. I was going to go to your Manor to speak to your mother about some things, but it is so late now.” Hermione sighed as she took stock of her things.

 

“I see no problem, come for dinner. My mother will be thrilled I assure you. She was always disappointed she never had a daughter to pamper and love. And seeing as she is estranged from her only niece, you are the next closest thing to a daughter she has at the moment.” Draco smiled reassuringly.

 

“So long as it is really okay. How will your father be?” Hermione asked nervously.

 

“Now? He will be fine. He will kiss your shoe if you ask him, for reasons best not discussed here.” Draco smiled genially at her.

 

The image of Lucius Malfoy kissing her shoes popped into her head. She wouldn’t deny it. The image was a pleasant one. “How would it go down if I asked him to do that?” She asked cheekily.

 

“Mother would be appalled. So would father. But he would do it.” Draco replied. “I would advise against it, though. Might make dinner conversation a bit awkward.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but agree there. “So how shall we be getting there? The Knight Bus?”

 

Draco gave her a disgusted look. “Are you kidding? Another trip on public transport? No thanks. We will floo. I have floo powder on me.” They went onto a small café and towards the fireplace. “Just say ‘Malfoy Manor Entrance Hall’, and the floo will do the rest. You do know how to floo right?”

 

Hermione nodded and stepped threw the powder into the flames. “Malfoy Manor Entrance Hall!” She shouted as clearly as she could. The moment the last word left her mouth she found herself whizzing through the ether past hundreds of different fireplaces. She closed her eyes, feeling dizzy from the trip until she came to a sudden stop. She stepped out of the fireplace into the huge entrance hall of Malfoy Manor.

 

Narcissa walked serenely into the room, a smile lighting her face as she saw Hermione.

 

“Hermione dear! It is marvelous to see you again so soon! Come in! Come in!” Moments later Draco stepped through the flames behind her. “And you managed to not kill my son on your day out. Now that is splendid news. I am guessing you will be joining us for dinner?”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but smile at Narcissa’s clear acceptance of her. “Yes, Narcissa. So long as it isn’t a problem. Draco said it would be fine.”

 

“More than fine dear. In fact, I am wishing I had had the idea myself. However I must ask, please do try and be nice to my husband. He is having a hard time accepting your familial links.” Narcissa wrapped and arm around Hermione and led her into the Drawing Room. “Draco dear, wash up for dinner. Run along now. Hermione and I have a few things to discuss.”

 

Hermione looked over her shoulder as Draco stood there mouth agape. She felt a shot of remorse through her, feeling almost as if she was stealing his mother from him. Especially after he had been so nice to her.

 

Narcissa led her to the couch they had shared last night and sat her down. “So did you speak to your father dear?” She asked as she sat down beside her.

 

Hermione shook her head. “He says there is no more to know. I feel as if I shouldn’t believe him, though.”

 

“You would be right in feeling that Hermione. It is sad to say The Dark Lord is the most honest out of his kin, with the exception now of you I suppose. Wait here a moment.” Narcissa stood and went over to an ornate glass cabinet on the other side of the room. From it she extracted a small marble pensive. “Let me show you why I felt I needed to curse your father last night. I feel it is only fair.”

 

Hermione sat in silence as she waited for Narcissa to come back with the pensive.

 

“I shall let you know now, it was far from pleasant the things he said. So I ask for forgiveness in advance for exposing you to such. But you really should know.”

 

Narcissa raised her wand to her temple and withdrew a smoky substance. With a flick of her wrist, it floated over to the bowl and settled into the oily yet smoky substance. “Just reach your hand in dear. The pensive will do the rest.”

 

Hermione did as she was told was instantly felt sucked into the memory.  
  
_Narcissa and her father were sat at the kitchen table._

_“What do you want ‘Cissa? Why are you getting involved in this?” Her father asked his head in his hands. It was clear he was suffering a headache._

_“How could I not get involved in this? How could you have done this to your only daughter? You should have told her the truth! She had every right to know!” Narcissa was obviously upset._

_“I did tell her didn’t I? The time was never right. After she mentioned that bastards name, I knew I had to tell her. But if I could get away with it, she would never have known.” Her father rose to his feet. “She doesn’t need to be getting mixed up with your lot. She doesn’t need to be around Him!” he slammed his hands onto the table, standing over Narcissa. “She doesn’t need to have you warping her mind against me! She already hates me for this! Dumbledore made me swear I would never tell her. Now that old fool will be after me too!”_

_Fury crossed Narcissa’s face. “Albus Dumbledore knows who she is? Who she is related to? How could you let him know of her? He will use her, you know that. What was going through that demented head of yours?”_

_Her father’s face contorted in fury. “Who do you think you are telling me what I should or shouldn’t do? You were always looking down on me. I can’t help the way I was born or who I was born to. You always thought you were better than me, didn’t you ‘Cissa? Well, let me tell you something. I may not have been able to be anything in the wizarding world, but here in the muggle world I am someone. If you were in this world you would be nothing more than a glorified housewife. A no one. Nothing. Because that’s what you really are, nothing.”_

_Narcissa scoffed as she stood up, trying to even out their height. Narcissa Malfoy was not a woman to allow anyone to stand over her. “Who do I think I am? I am the only blood relative she has remaining who actually cares about her it would seem. You took her away from her family. You took her mother away from her family. All so you could get what you wanted. You are a sick, sick man.”_

_Her father then did something incredibly unexpected. He hissed at Narcissa. It took a moment for Hermione to realize he was speaking Parseltongue._

_“You dare say that in front of me?” Narcissa’s voice was deceptively soft. “I may not look like much, but I taught myself the snake tongue a long time ago. I needed to considering I had your darling uncle living under my roof. How DARE you say that about your daughter?”_

_“I dare say what I like under my own roof. And it is true. She should never have existed. If her mother hadn’t of stopped taking the birth control tablets she had been on none of this would have ever happened. She was a mistake. A cruel and horrible mistake made to torture me further. If I could have gotten away with it I would have killed her and her mother, but I was born a weak and crippled wizard wasn’t I?”_

_Narcissa had her wand out in an instant. “Crucio.” She hissed. Her father was writhing on the floor. Just as the kitchen door opened Narcissa pulled her wand away._

Hermione was shaking as she was thrown back onto the couch. “Oh my God,” She mumbled.

 

Narcissa wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I am so sorry, but you had the right to know the all of it.”

 

Hermione nodded as for the second time in two days she felt tears in her eyes. “He is just as bad as Voldemort, isn’t he?”

 

Narcissa flinched at Hermione’s use of The Dark Lord’s name. “It's okay dear. I wish it was some other way.”

 

“How could he? What have I done wrong? How could he regret having me? I thought he loved me?” Once saying those words, Hermione broke. She wailed into Narcissa’s immaculate robes, her whole body shaking. Narcissa rubbed her back soothingly but knew there was nothing that could be said. What do you say to someone who has just heard her own father say he wanted her dead?

 

She rang a small bell on the table beside her. A house elf appeared at her side.

 

“Blinker? Inform the Master that Hermione and I will not be present at dinner tonight. Also, inform the kitchen elves to have a light supper prepared. Nothing fancy. Sandwiches will do.”

 

“Yes, Mistress!” The elf squeaked, then popped away.

 

Narcissa continued to hold Hermione as she cried her heart out. She felt tears of her own well in her eyes. It just wasn’t fair. How could that man be such a monster to such a charming child she would never know.

 

It was a few hours later that Hermione came to herself. She sat up slowly, her eyes red and swollen, her throat raw.

 

“Are you okay dear?” Narcissa asked softly.

 

Hermione nodded slightly, her body still shaking. Narcissa reached over again and rang the bell.

 

“Yes, Mistress?” The house elf asked as she (he?) popped into existence.

 

“Bring us supper in here. Also a decanter of water. Bring a bowl of rosehip tea as well and a cloth.” Narcissa ordered.

 

“Yes, Mistress. Anything else?”

 

“No that will be all Blinker.” Narcissa dismissed the elf with a wave of her hand.

 

Normally Hermione would have protested Narcissa’s treatment of the house elf, but she just didn’t have the energy. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t do anything. She had done everything she could to make her parents proud, and the one man she had thought she could love and trust above all others had betrayed her. He wanted her dead. She just didn’t know how to handle that information.

 

Narcissa stood and walked over to the bar. She pulled out a tumbler and the same bottle of firewhiskey Voldemort had poured for them the night before. “This seemed to help settle your nerves last night, dear. Would you care for another glass?”

 

Hermione nodded. She couldn’t speak right now.

 

Narcissa pulled out another glass and placed it on the bar. In one she added soda water, the other she added ice. With a flourish, she poured the firewhiskey into the two glasses. Placing the glasses on a polished silver tray, Narcissa brought the drinks over. She handed Hermione the firewhiskey neat. “There you go dear.”

 

Hermione took a deep mouthful. It burnt, but it didn’t bother her this time. It was as if it was burning the pain away.

 

A few moments later Blinker returned with the sandwiches, water and tea.

 

“Here you go Mistress.” The house else placed everything on the table in front of them. The house elf turned to Hermione. “And is the little Miss alright now?”

 

Hermione was startled that the house elf even addressed her. She had always assumed they only spoke when spoken to. “Yes, thank you very much.”

 

If house elves could blush, that’s exactly what this one did. Its ears perked up and a huge grin spread across its face. “It was nothing, Miss! Blinker will be going now!” With a happy crack, it was gone.

 

Hermione reached over and took one of the sandwiches. She was surprisingly hungry. It was ham and cucumber, her favorite.

 

“Thank you for everything, Narcissa. It means so much to me that you have been here for me. Although I will admit very unexpected.” Hermione blushed as she added the last part.

 

“Of course I am here for you. You are family, and you are in need. I would never admit this to Lucius because he would have a fit, but even if you were a half-blood, I would have done anything I could for you. I won’t lie, it’s very hard for me to admit as such, but it is the truth none the less.”

 

“I know you have a sister who married a muggle. Do you speak to her at all?” Hermione asked out of curiosity.  
  
“No. Not without trying though. Andy decided that because our parents and Bella couldn’t stand she had married a muggle that would mean I wanted nothing to do with her as well. Unfortunately, she is just as prejudiced as the rest of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. I tried, in the beginning, but because of my husband’s ties to The Dark Lord, she assumed I was a part of things too.” Narcissa rolled up her left sleeve. “As you can see though. I hold no Dark Mark. I might support some of his beliefs, but I can’t bring myself to be a full supporter of him.”

 

“That is understandable.” Hermione managed to get out. She had never met the woman, but knew what Narcissa meant about the Order’s prejudices. She had not seen it until now. Being stuck in the middle would do that to a person she supposed.  
  
“Once again dear, if you would like to stay her the night, you are more than welcome. I can understand why you may not wish to go home.” Narcissa said soothingly. “In fact, if you would like, you can stay the next three nights and depart for Hogwarts with Draco if you would prefer. It might be easier.”  
  
Hermione nodded. “I would appreciate that. I don’t think I could sleep under the same roof as that mad man any longer.”  
  
“Well let us finish our supper and then we will go. I simply can’t let you go there alone.” Narcissa said with a tone that brooked no argument. “We will try and get your mother out of there and restore her memories to her as well. I shall endeavor to work on it while you are at school. But first finish eating. You will need your strength.  
  
Hermione helped herself to another sandwich. It was some kind of creamy cheese. It was delicious though.  
  
They sat silently as they ate, and soon the platter was cleared.  
  
“Before we go, we will help the swelling of your eyes. Of course you could fix it magically, but this way is much more relaxing.” Narcissa dipped the cloth in the rosehip tea. “This will help the swelling and also calm you down. You will need your wits about you.”  
  
Hermione took the cloth and pressed it to her eyes. Narcissa encouraged her to lean back against the couch. “Just rest for the moment dear. We have all the time in the world.”


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione awoke in a large bed in an even bigger bedroom. She must have fallen asleep in the Malfoy’s Drawing Room. Someone, she assumed Narcissa, had changed her out of the clothes she had been wearing the day before, and she was wearing an elegant but modest nightgown. As she went to get out of bed, a house elf popped into the room.

 

“Hello, Miss! I is Bobby. Mistress has assigned me to care for your needs this morning! Get back into bed and I shall get you breakfast.” This house elf was dressed in a spotless pillowcase with a pinafore that seemed to have been made from a tea towel.

 

“Oh, um, that’s okay. I am sure I can go downstairs for breakfast. Bobby. I just need to get a change of clothes.” Hermione mumbled sleepily.

 

“Nonsense! Mistress said you might be difficult because you don’t know our ways. Ladies always take their breakfast in bed. It is what is done and while you are in Bobby’s care you will follow the rules!” The house elf seemed to get flustered. Hermione decided against arguing with it this early in the morning and lay back down in bed. It seemed Hermione had met her match.

 

The house elf pulled out a notepad. “How would miss like her eggs? And her bacon?”

 

“Oh, I just normally have toast for breakfast,” Hermione replied.

 

“Well, Mistress said you had only had a small supper last night. So you is needing a big breakfast this morning. Or does the Miss think I cannot prepare the breakfast to her satisfaction?” The house elf’s ears drooped and large tears formed in her eyes. “If that be so Miss, I shall punish myself now!”

 

“No! Don’t do that!” Hermione suddenly felt terrible. “I’ll um… how do you think I should have my eggs, Bobby?”

 

The elf instantly perked up again. “Well, Mistress likes hers poached on a Saturday morning. Would you like yours poached too?”

 

Hermione nodded. “And of it isn’t too much trouble, can I have the bacon soft?”

 

The house elf nodded vigorously. “Anything Miss! And which bread would you like for your toast? We have sourdough, rye, pumpkin seed, or white.”

 

“Oh.” Hermione had to think about that one. She had never really had the option of choosing bread before. “Maybe sourdough?”

 

“Very good Miss! I shall go to the kitchens and prepare it straight away!” With that, the elf left with an enthusiastic crack.

 

Hermione lay back on the soft pillows. It felt strange to be waited on, especially by a house elf. Yet the elf seemed so upset when it thought it wasn’t needed. Perhaps she had been wrong about their servitude. Of course, not all house elves would like it, but it seemed that elves like Dobby were the rare exceptions.

 

A little while later Bobby came back with her breakfast on a large bed tray. On the tray as well was a large glass of pumpkin juice and a steaming teapot. “Would Miss like anything else?”

 

“No thank you, Bobby. This looks amazing.” Hermione replied, as her stomach rumbled.

 

“Then I shall go and get the clothes Mistress organized for you. She put your clothes in the wash shoot to be cleaned here.” Once again the elf was gone with a quick crack.

 

Hermione tucked into the breakfast eagerly. It was absolutely delicious. The bread she could tell was freshly baked and toasted perfectly. The eggs were absolute perfection as well. The yokes just runny enough. Too soon, the meal was gone.

 

A few moments later Bobby was back with a clean set of robes. “Mistress had these set aside for you. They are from a long time ago before she was pregnant with Master Draco. She says they should fit you now and that you are to be keeping them.”

 

Hermione nodded and got out of bed as the elf hung the robes on the back of the door. It clicked its fingers and the dishes from breakfast were gone. “Is there anything else Miss?” The elf asked eagerly.

 

“No thank you. That will be all. I will just get dressed now thank you.” Hermione said, eager to have a moment alone.

 

The elf nodded and was gone.

 

Hermione looked around the room she was in. In one corner, there was a spacious lounge set, in a soft beige color. The rest of the room was furnished in shades of beige or copper. It was clearly a guest room. There was no little nick nacks or photos anywhere.

 

An enormous picture window took up one of the walls. Hermione walked over to it and stared outside. It overlooked the lawns and what looked to be a beautiful rose garden. In the very distance, she could see forests and the sun rising behind snowcapped mountains. It was almost like a painting. Turning from the window she went and inspected the two doors in the wall opposite her bed. One lead to a vast walk-in wardrobe. The racks were bare currently, but it looked as if there was space for hundreds or robes and dresses.

 

She closed the door and went to the next. It was a bathroom! Inside was the largest bath Hermione had ever seen. Bigger than even the one in the prefect’s bathroom. There was also a huge vanity. Eyeing the bath, Hermione decided she couldn’t wait to jump in. She flicked on almost all of the taps and watched as the bath filled up with warm water and more bubbles than she could ever imagine.

 

She climbed the stairs that led to the lip of the bath and dipped a toe in. The water was the perfect temperature. Quickly stripping down she stepped into the bath with a sigh.

 

There were several steps that led down into the bath as well. The water went up to her chin while she was standing. It was like being in a pool! She walked around the bath for a bit, finally finding a seat in the corner. She sat and leaned back against the cool tiles.

 

So much had happened in 48 hours. It felt nice to just sit and relax. Try as she might, she couldn’t help but remember what she had seen in the pensive. How could the man she had loved so unconditionally, the man she had trusted with all her heart, have betrayed her in such a way? She just still couldn’t make sense of it. Yet the people who were meant to hate her, be her enemy, had accepted her so readily. Even Voldemort! Was it possible she had been misled since she had entered the wizarding world?

 

She shook that thought out of her head instantly. She couldn’t think like that. They were prejudiced and cruel. She only had to remember Lucius at the Ministry several months ago to know that. It had been a trap to get Harry.

 

How had her life ended up like this, stuck in the middle of two sides of a war? Her life was spiraling out of control. She sighed. The water was beginning to cool down now. She stepped out of the bath and grabbed one of the copper colored bath sheets that was hung perfectly on a towel rack near the bath.

 

She wrapped it around herself and padded into the bedroom.

 

It took her a moment to realize something was amiss. When she spotted it she screamed.

 

“Draco! What on earth are you doing in here?”

 

Draco quickly covered his eyes. “I thought you were just peeing or something! I didn’t realize you were in the bath!”

 

“GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!” Hermione screamed.

 

Draco was out the door before she had finished her tirade. Her whole body was flushed pink. She couldn’t believe Draco Malfoy had almost seen her naked!

 

Taking a steadying breath, Hermione walked over to where the robes Narcissa had loaned her were hanging. They were a soft cream color, and clearly well made. They were unadorned and of a timeless style.

 

Quickly Hermione dressed. She wanted to get her things and get everything over and done with as soon as possible.

 

She opened the door and stepped into a narrow hallway. Draco was leaned against the opposite wall, his face still a brilliant red.

 

“I’m so, so, so sorry about that Hermione! Honestly if I had of known I wouldn’t have come in at all. I am so sorry.” Draco stammered.

 

Hermione shrugged. “It’s fine. No harm was done, and you didn’t see anything you shouldn’t have, thank God!”

 

Draco shuddered. “I should have waited, though. I am so sorry.”

 

She laughed. “Seriously, it's okay. No harm was done.”

 

Draco gave her a small smile, though his face was still a brilliant red. “Alright then. Well… um… Mother just wanted me to come get you. She told me to escort you to the Ladies Room.” He held out his arm.

 

“Surely all these airs and graces aren’t necessary?” Hermione queried.

 

“A month ago? A year ago? No. Not when we thought you were a mudblood,” Hermione flinched at the term, but let him continue. She realized now that was just how he was raised, and it would take a very long time to change those thoughts in his head. He continued. “You are a pureblood princess now. Although the Gaunt’s disgraced themselves and let themselves live in squalor, they are the direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself! Not only that, but you also have the blood of one of the oldest and purest pureblood family’s running through your veins through your Black side. You are possibly the most Sacred of the Sacred Twenty – Eight. You can’t change that. People will treat you differently now.”

 

Draco had led her through several hallways as he said this.

 

“But I don’t want to be treated differently. I’m still just Hermione.” She felt she had to clarify this, not just to Draco, but to herself as well.

 

“Of course you are. But instead of just being Hermione Granger, know – it – all and mudblood extraordinaire, you are Hermione Gaunt, single, well educated, brilliant in every way, and Sacred Twenty – Eight to boot. Regardless of what you might say, or what you might think, that makes a huge difference.

 

Hermione sighed. There was no use in trying to fight what was clearly a losing battle. No matter what she wanted, that’s how people who knew would treat her now.  
  
Finally they stopped outside a set of familiar doors. “Mother is inside waiting. I guess I’ll see you later?”  
  
Hermione nodded, then did something extremely out of character. She hugged him. “Thank you, Draco. You have been a great help. Your mother seems to beat about the bush with some things. Like the etiquette and stuff. Thank you for explaining that to me just then.” She blushed as she drew back.  
  
Draco turned a flaming shade of red again. “Think nothing of it. It is the right thing to do.”  
  
With a smile towards Draco, Hermione stepped into the room.  
  
“Good morning dear. Oh those robes look just as good on you as I thought they would. And to think they are over seventeen years old. They look as though they were tailored just yesterday!” Narcissa was clearly a morning person, as was apparent by her chirpy voice.  
  
“Thank you so much, it means a lot to me that you would loan me these.” Hermione gave her a grateful smile.  
  
“Nonsense. Keep them. I was thinking of giving them to a second hand store soon anyway. I just can’t fit into them like I did before I had Draco.” Narcissa patted the seat next to her. “Have a cup of tea with me, then we shall go and get your things. The sooner the better.”   
  
Hermione nodded in agreement. She wanted to get it over and done with.  
  
Hermione sat down and Narcissa poured the tea into an almost translucent tea cup. They made small talk as they relaxed, but finally it was time to leave.  
  
“I shall apparate us outside of your house so as not to startle Norma again. I couldn’t bear to do any damage to her already fragile mental state.”  
  
“That sounds fine Narcissa.” Hermione agreed with her. The idea of snapping her mother’s altered mind would destroy Hermione, especially right now with everything else going on.  
  
“I shall take us there again. Come now, grab my arm tightly. We don’t want you to get splinched during the journey.” Narcissa held out her arm to Hermione. She took it without hesitation, and suddenly they were in Hermione’s back yard.  
  
Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself. She knew that both her parents would be home. It was a Saturday and the dental practice was always closed on the weekends. She hoped she could do this without running into her father.  
  
She took the first step forward and Narcissa followed her inside. The kitchen was mercifully empty of people, however as Hermione stepped into the entry room to head upstairs her father stuck his head out the door. “Oh, it’s you.”  
  
Suddenly Hermione saw red. How DARE he react to her in such a cold manner? After everything he had said, everything he had done. He had no right!  
  
Hermione pulled out her wand and aimed it directly at his heart. “You will leave me alone. You will say nothing to myself or Narcissa for as long as we are both here. Do you understand me?” Her voice was deadly calm, yet she shook with fear on the inside. She had to stay brave though. She couldn’t let this stranger see how weak she was.  
  
He narrowed his eyes at Narcissa. “What lies have you been filling my daughters head with now?” He spat.

  
Before Narcissa had the opportunity to answer Hermione took over. “No lies _Father_. She showed me the memory of her meeting with you the other night! How could you? You don’t want a daughter? Fine, you don’t have one. You won’t have to worry about dirtying your hands to get rid of me!”  
  
She stomped up the stairs alone, leaving Narcissa downstairs with Morfin Gaunt Jr.  
  
“How does it feel Morfin? Turning everyone against you? You are going to die a lonely, bitter, old man, just like your father, and his father before him.” Narcissa spat.  
  
“What do you know, you dumb bitch?” He asked, fury written across his face. “You are nothing more than a trumped up tart.”  
  
Narcissa whipped out her wand. “I’d watch your tongue squib. I can have you thrown into Azkaban with that memory. The only thing that stops me at the moment is it incriminates me too, and your daughter needs me. Remember though, your little spouts of accidental magic are nothing compared to what I can do to you. You might be able to throw up a weak Shield Charm around yourself, but I can break that like a hot knife through butter. Or do you need another reminder?”  
  
Hermione had been standing hidden at the top of the stairs, watching the entire exchange. She felt tears in her eyes. It was one thing to see the memory Narcissa had shown her, but another to see it with her own eyes. Quickly she turned on her heal and ran to her room. With a flick of her wand everything she owned flew into her trunk. Everything except photos containing her father. He was dead to her now.  
  
“ _Reducio_.” Hermione muttered as she pointed her wand at her trunk. It shrunk down till it could fit in her pocket.  
  
She ran over and picked it up, stuffing it into one of the pockets at the front of her robes. She was done here. She would never return here again.  
  
Slamming the door behind her, she stomped down the stairs. “I am ready when you are, Narcissa.” She said, her voice devoid of all emotion.  
  
“Fine, run off with the blasted whore! Think again before you come back here!” Morfin screamed at her. Her mother was obviously not home, as she was sure he would never speak like that where her mother could here.  
  
Hermione drew her wand and walked straight up to him, jamming it under his throat.  
  
“I might not have had the guts to curse you before, but you say one more thing, and I will curse you to Kingdom Come, you understand?” Hermione’s voice was deadly quiet.  
  
Morfin did the last thing she had expected of her, he spat in her face. “You are no daughter of mine, bitch.”  
  
Rage flooded Hermione’s system, before she even realized what she was doing the curse was past her lips. “ _Crucio_.”  
  
She held it for several seconds, feeling vindicated finally for everything her father had done over the past few months. Finally she let the spell go. “If I am turning into one of them, all the better. Because I would rather be exactly like them than anything like you.”  
  
Hermione stormed out of the house before she lost her nerve. She couldn’t believe she had just done that!  
  
Narcissa followed her quickly. Wrapping her arms around Hermione, she gave her a motherly hug. “I know that must have been hard dear.”  
  
Hermione sniffed as she tried to hold back her tears. “It wasn’t though. It just happened, I just did it. What kind of person does that make me?”


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione had been given free rein to wander the expansive grounds that surrounded Malfoy Manor, and that is exactly what she did. She had sat for a short while talking to Narcissa about what had happened at her father’s house (for she could no longer feel comfortable calling it her own), then Narcissa had let he be by herself to think. She was struggling with her identity right now. She had cursed her own father. She had used an UNFORGIVABLE on her own father. She, Hermione Granger, had committed what many in the wizarding world considered the ultimate crime.

Yet it wasn’t the fact that she had cursed her father in such a way that was bothering her the most. She stood by the fact he had deserved it. What bothered her was that without even having to consciously think about it, she had cast an Unforgivable Curse. One of the ‘Big Three’, something that could if ever discovered have her shipped off to Azkaban and given the Kiss.

Just the thought made her shiver. Did that make her one of them now? Was she now sided with the Dark?

She thought back on what had happened this morning. Dumbledore knew about her true parentage. Why had he never told her? Did he think it was some kind of poetic justice to have Voldemort’s own family involved in His demise?

Hermione sat down on an ancient stone bench on what she assumed was the Eastern Lawn. There was a family of snow white peacocks roaming around close by, and she summoned a handful of seeds to feed them as she thought.

What bothered her most out of everything that was happening so far was not once, the whole Christmas holidays, had she heard from Harry or Ron. Did they know something she didn’t? Where they avoiding her because of who she was related to?

She remembered Narcissa saying the Light was just as prejudiced as the Dark. Could Harry and Ron be pushing her away thinking she was Dark? 

She remembered the curse. Was she Dark now?

She thought back to the Ministry and how Harry had tried to curse Bellatrix. He had tried to use it for the ‘right’ reasons. You had to really want to hurt the person you were cursing to make it hurt. And she had wanted to make her father hurt. At the time she had wanted it so much. She wanted him to know how she was feeling, to have some semblance of the pain he had inflicted on her. Then the curse had just slipped out.

It took her a moment to realize someone was sitting next to her.

“Penny for your thoughts, My Lady?” It was Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. “What do you want, Malfoy?” Hermione spat. She was in no mood right now to deal with this sanctimonious, bigoted waste of air.

Lucius Malfoy sighed beside her. Looking down at his shoes, he spoke. “I just wanted to apologize for my behavior. It was very wrong of me to say and do the things I have done in the past.”

Hermione snorted, then laughed. Peals of laughter rang out across the grounds, startling the beautiful peacocks that had moved closer due to the seeds Hermione had summoned. After several minutes Hermione finally calmed down enough to speak. “You think something so simple as an apology can make up for everything you have said and done to me since joining your world? You think that a few words, however sincere you think they might be could be considered as recompense for making my life a living hell? You have made me feel like less than nothing. You allowed one of my best friends to be possessed by the evilest man to exist in hundreds of years. You have tried to kill someone I consider a brother on more than one occasion. You have tried to kill me on more than one occasion. You poisoned your own son’s mind to believe your warped views. After all of that, you think simply saying sorry makes that all go away?” Hermione started laughing hysterically again.

Lucius starred at her, his mouth agape. Once Hermione had calmed again he spoke. “I am well aware that my apology means nothing, yet I feel like it is the very least I owe you. You are kin to my Lord after all.”

“So that’s why you apologize. If I had still been a ‘filthy little mudblood’, you wouldn’t be wasting your breath on me. However, because I am related to ‘your Lord’, I am now an acceptable person to be seen around, am I right? Hermione spat indignantly. “You really are a piece of work, Mr. Malfoy.”

Lucius sat silently for a moment. He looked as though he was regrouping his thoughts. “You need to try and understand my position. I was conscripted into my Lord’s service the moment I came of age by my father. I was raised to believe that mudbloods are nothing. Less than nothing. They shouldn’t exist. Those that did where freaks of nature. They could never be strong. Never be powerful. Not like a witch of wizard born to someone with at least one magical parent.

“Then you come along, you are brilliant! You test every thought I have ever had. I had given my son the very best of everything before Hogwarts. I scoured the World for the best tutors, because as Malfoy’s we cannot be anything but the very best. I sent my son to Hogwarts confident that he would always come out on top no matter what. Then you, a little bint who knew nothing about our world until someone came and showed your parents and hand delivered your letter, comes a long and beats him at everything! I’m on the Board, I know what scores you receive in your finals. I know what you got in your O.W.L.S. If you had not been there, this muggleborn freak of nature, my son would have been on top. You made me question every belief I have ever had, and I hated it. I loathed it, and I loathed you.” Lucius was out of breath. “Can you now see why I may have reacted how I did? I am not saying I was right, but surely you can understand my how I might behave the way I did?”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t. And I probably will never understand. Your prejudices are just so wrong! You made me feel like I wasn’t even a human being!” Hermione couldn’t even believe that she was having this conversation with Lucius Malfoy. The world was really being turned upside down.

Lucius shook his head. “You can believe that all you like, but it how I am. I have seen the error in my behavior towards you. And I apologize. Take it or leave it.”

Hermione stood. “I will think about it. But think about why it is you are apologizing to me. Is it because you think your prejudices are wrong? Or is it because I turned out to be a pureblood and you can’t believe you spoke to a member of the Gaunt family the way you have?” She stormed off. She couldn’t believe the gall of the man! Who did he think he was?

She realized that Draco had apologized for the same reason, but this was different wasn’t it? Draco had never tried to actually kill her. This man had. Draco was still young, controlled by his parents. This man wasn’t.

Yet Draco would likely grow up to be this man. And she was finding it in her heart to forgive him. 

“Its because there is a chance for Draco.” She mumbled under her breath. But did she really believe that?

Hermione decided it was time to head back to the house. It had been a nice day, however the breeze was freezing, and she could no longer feel her fingers and toes.

She headed towards the side of the house, where there was a door leading into the Drawing Room. She stepped in then stopped in her tracks.

Sitting there in the leather wingback chair being served tea and Petite Fours by a terrified looking house elf was none other than Lord Voldemort himself.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to see him! Hadn’t her day been bad enough?

He looked up at her. “Come sit. We need to have a discussion about a few things.”

Hermione slowly edged into the room. She didn’t want to do this. She couldn’t do this.

“Come on, come on. I don’t have all day.” Voldemort’s voice dripped with impatience.

Taking a deep breath Hermione moved into the room and sat down at the far end of the couch. She didn’t want to be near him at all.

Voldemort raised a nonexistent eyebrow. “Am I really that terrifying? Well I suppose I am. And with your association with that Potter brat, I can understand why you might be hesitant to make my acquaintance. Regardless, I forgive you for it.”

Hermione stared at him blankly. He forgave her for not wanting to be in his presence? Well the world was really turned upside down, wasn’t it?

“There is a purpose for my visit. I wish to show you why I believe and feel the way I do on blood status.” Voldemort leaned back in the chair. “It might seem strange to you, but there is a very simple muggle method that will show you why I believe how I, and many others do.” Voldemort leaned back in his chair, a smug expression on his face.

Hermione snorted. “You will have to forgive my inability to believe much of what you say. I highly doubt you, or any of your kind know anything of the muggle world.”

A look of displeasure crossed Voldemort’s face. “Well of course your kind would like to forget I am a half blood. Tell me, why would a half blood be fighting so hard to keep pureblood bloodlines pure?”

Hermione stopped and thought about it. It really didn’t make that much sense. Voldemort continued.

“After Hogwarts I became fascinated with biology and chemistry. I wanted to know why those in my house felt so strongly about keeping to themselves. Of course, dear Dumbledore had told me a few things about my mother’s family as well. I knew they were inbred, I knew that they had married their own cousins, their own siblings, to keep Salazar Slytherin’s line as pure as it could possibly be.

“So I studied. I researched. I wanted to know why it was so important. It was just blood, after all. I managed to obtain samples of blood from various sources. Mudblood, pureblood, muggle, I used my own blood for the half-blood side. After some tests, I found something very interesting. Although muggle blood when mixed with the blood of mudblood’s showed no abnormalities, when a mudblood’s blood mixed with that of a half blood, three times out of ten, there was a chemical reaction. It was like it turned the blood to soap it was such a strong acidic reaction. When mixed with the blood of a pureblood, this effect doubled.”

Hermione’s mouth was agape. That just couldn’t be possible, could it? “Then what about children? There are many muggleborns who have children with half-blood’s and purebloods. There is nothing wrong with those children so far as I have seen!”

Voldemort gave her a leveled glare. “Isn’t there? Seriously consider how many children you have met such as this. They are few and far between. Many woman who do manage to conceive will miscarry. And the children do survive past the gestational period are sickly. Their magical cores are weak. They can perform magic, yes. But their spells will always be of less effect.”

This was all news to Hermione. Yet when she thought about it, she knew he was right to some degree. She could think of few people at Hogwarts who had a muggleborn parent and a pureblood parent. And their attitude towards magic was always a lot less. She had always just thought they weren’t studying hard enough.

“I can show you the proof if you would prefer.” Voldemort’s words cut through her thoughts.

Hesitantly Hermione nodded.

“I will warn you now, what you will see will most likely greatly disturb you. I will be taking you to the Malfoy’s dungeons. I have a few special guests who will greatly help with this test.” A wicked grin lit Voldemort’s face. “Of course, if you would rather keep to your delusions, and sit up on your high horse, that is also an option.”

Her hand twitched to grab her wand, but Hermione knew in a wand fight, she would instantly loose against Voldemort. Evil though he was, she had to acknowledge he was a powerful wizard. “I will go. Just please, I beg you, please don’t torture them while I am there. I couldn’t bear to see that.”

Voldemort seemed to think on her request a moment. “I approve, I can see no harm in that.” He stood from his chair and held out his hand. “Come, niece. I will show you.” Hermione nervously took his hand. What was she doing? How could she be so readily accepting of all this? This wasn’t her. She put it down to the stressful day she had been having. She clearly wasn’t in her right mind.

She noted his hand was cold as ice. A shiver ran down her spine. As Voldemort led her through the house, a thought popped into her head. She was literally following the Devil down to hell.

It seemed like hours but they finally reached the dungeons. It was a long room. Hermione counted at least sixteen cages lining the cold stone walls. Moans and sobs could be heard coming from some of them. At the far end of the room was a large stone table, several vicious looking tools lying around along its edges.

On one wall, Hermione was surprised to see, was a muggle chemistry setup. There were vials and beakers neatly lined up on one side, a microscope, several Petrie dishes stacked on top of the other, and on a shelf above various chemicals sat neatly. It was here Voldemort lead her first.

“I would like to take a sample of your blood. The test works best if the blood is fresh. I will take a sample of my own as well. Then I will take samples from two particular scum I have down here.” Voldemort spoke as he neatly lined up four of the Petrie dishes.

“No. I… I can’t do this.” Hermione stuttered. She suddenly realized by being here, she was condoning the torture of innocent people. She needed to get out of here.

Voldemort looked up, looking her directly in the eyes. He was silent for a moment. When he spoke, there was a condescending tone to his voice. “These are political prisoners. Do you think your Order do not take my own as prisoners as well? Do you think they are not above taking innocent pureblood’s on the basis they may be associated to me? There is no right or wrong, Niece of mine. There is power. Only power and those who have the ability and the courage to wield it. Would you respect your precious Dumbledore if he was a weak old fool?”

There was sense in his words, Hermione realized. Remember, He is a master manipulator. Don’t believe anything that comes out of his mouth.

Voldemort clicked his fingers, bringing her attention back to him. He held out what Hermione recognized as a muggle needle used for drawing blood. “So you can trust I haven’t cursed or poisoned the tip of the needle, I will allow you to draw your own blood.”

With shaking fingers, Hermione took the packet with the syringe. She tore it open, holding it in her hand. “I… I don’t know what to do.” She stammered.

Shaking his head, Voldemort snatched the needle from her hand. “Fine, I will do it then.” He gripped her arm tightly. “This will pinch a bit.” Slowly he inserted the needle into the inside of her elbow. Hermione flinched as the needle penetrated her. It was not a pleasant sensation. After a few brief moments he was done. He held out a sterile pad. “Press that down till the bleeding stops.” He mumbled, already engrossed in drawing his own blood.

Hermione closed her eyes. She knew he would be going for the prisoners next, and she could not bring herself to look. Shame flooded her system. These people are suffering for your curiosity. The least you can do is look them in the eye. So much for being a courageous Gryffindor.

Several minutes later, Voldemort was back. He shook her shoulder. “If you would care to look now?” He asked sardonically.

Hermione noticed that while she had been off in her own little world, he had lined up several vials, each full with blood. A neatly written label marked each. ‘Pureblood’, ‘Half-blood’, ‘Mudblood’, and ‘Muggle’.

“First I will show you what happens when you mix the blood of a half blood with a pureblood” he said. Taking a fresh needle, he drew up some of the blood from the vial containing her blood, and placed it in the first Petrie dish. He rested the needle in the vial, then took a fresh needle and drew up some of his own blood, placing it in the same dish. Nothing happened. “Have you ever seen blood under a microscope, Hermione?” Voldemort asked casually.

Hermione shook her head.

There was a small bookshelf on the left side of the chemistry lab. Voldemort reached over and took out what looked like a muggle text book. He spent a moment flipping through the pages. Finally he found the one he wanted. “This is a diagram of what human blood looks like. You can see the Erythrocyte, or red blood cells. The Plasma, or white blood cells. And of course the platelets.”

“Oh I kind of knew that. My parents both work as dentists now, so they explained the human body in fairly great detail.” Hermione spoke, her voice sounding hollow as it echoed around the dungeon. She had calmed down now. She was learning, studying. This was her place.

Voldemort nodded his head. “Good.” He placed the Petrie dish under the microscope. “Take a look, if you care to.”

Hermione placed her eye to the microscope. After waiting for a moment for the image to become clear, she saw that it was the same as in the picture. She looked up confused at Voldemort. “I thought there would be some kind of reaction though!” She exclaimed as she stood back.

“Oh there is. However it just takes time for it to come through. I often wish that some of my supporters would be more interested in why they want to keep their bloodlines pure. Be that as it may, a pureblood and a half – blood can clearly mix their cells with no issue. However, let us see the reaction of a mudblood’s blood mixed with that of a pureblood.”

Voldemort took two more needles, and after taking samples of both, placed the blood in the Petrie dish. The reaction was instantaneous. A white foam seemed to explode out from the Petrie dish, overflowing onto the bench. Hermione jumped back, she had not been expecting that in the slightest! 

Voldemort picked up a Popsicle stick and scooped some of the substance onto it. Holding it out to Hermione he said; “Touch it. It has a very soapy consistency.” Hesitantly she rubbed some of the substance between her thumb and forefinger. It was gritty, and as Voldemort had said, soapy.

“I don’t understand how this could happen though. We are all still human.” Hermione could feel a migraine coming on.

“Very true. It is like muggle blood transfusions. Some people can only have blood of their matching blood type. Those of us who can do magic have our own blood types as well, that no muggle carries. Mudblood’s have a mutation of this blood type that is toxic to our kind. It is how they get their magic, but it is how they hold us back!” Voldemort’s voice grew louder as his passion for the topic became clear. “Segregating mudblood’s from the rest of us is not enough. We need to abolish them completely! They are in both our world, and the muggle world, abominations that shouldn’t exist!”

Hermione’s eyes were wide open. She had a lot to think about.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione awoke Sunday morning feeling surprisingly refreshed. Saturday had been a very long day for her, and she had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.  
  
She decided to forgo her usual morning ritual of thinking over the previous day. Too much had happened. Some of which she would rather forget. As she was about to get out of the bed, the house elf Bobby popped into the room.  
  
“Mistress has sent Bobby to serve breakfast to the young Miss again! What would you be having?” The elf asked enthusiastically.   
  
“Just toast and jam please Bobby, if it isn’t too much trouble.” Hermione smiled shyly. It was still so strange being waited on.  
  
The elf gave Hermione a strange look. “Is the little Miss sure that is all she would like? Mistress usually has egg white omelets with a coffee for her Sunday breakfast!”  


Hermione shook he head slightly. This elf was incredibly pushy it seemed. “No thank you Bobby, toast would be fine thank you. On white bread if that is okay?”  
  
With a resigned sigh Bobby the house elf nodded. “If that is truly what the Miss would like, then it will be no trouble getting it for her.” With a final hopeful look as if waiting for Hermione to ask for more, the elf left.  
  
Hermione propped herself up on the pillows. She hoped today would not be like yesterday. She wanted one stress free day before she went back to school.  
  
Bobby reappeared with a tray piled high with soft toast and several jars of jam. “I hope Miss enjoys.” The elf said solemnly.  
  
Before the elf had a chance to leave, Hermione called out to it. “Bobby? Please wait a moment. Don’t feel as if I don’t appreciate what you have done just because I want toast. Honest. I just don’t have much of an appetite in the mornings.” She smiled softly at the elf.  
  
“Okay Miss. If you means it.” The elf’s ears perked up slightly. “I hope Miss likes the toast, I was up early to bake to bake the bread! I’s always the one who bakes the bread!”  
  
Hermione shook her head as she smiled at the elf. It really was the sweetest thing. “I am sure I will, Bobby.”  
  
“The tray will vanish when you is done. Have a good day Miss.” The elf was gone in a pop.  
  
With another shake of her head, Hermione tucked into her breakfast.  
  
As Hermione had hoped, the day was blessedly stress free. She spent the day wandering the grounds, and finishing up some last minute homework. Before she knew it, it was time for bed again.  
  
The next day dawned bright and early. Without asking, Bobby had brought Hermione her preferred breakfast, and she ate as she made sure everything was packed. She decided to dress now in her school robes. She couldn’t see Narcissa or Lucius Malfoy going through muggle London at all just to deposit her and Draco at Platform 9 1/3.  
  
She shrunk her trunk down and placed it in the pocket of her school robes. She walked through the halls of the house. She had arranged to meet Draco in the Entrance Hall.  
  
As predicted, he was waiting there for her. It was strange she realized. She had only seen him the other day, yet it seemed like weeks since they had last spoke. She gave him a shy smile. They had yet to discuss how their newfound friendship would play out at Hogwarts.  
  
“Hi,” she said softly.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
They stood in silence for a moment, neither sure how to start the conversation.  
  
“So how are we-”  
  
“What are we going to-”  
  
They both stopped as they realized they had spoken together.  
  
“After you.” Draco gave her a grin.  
  
“What are we going to do once we are at school? Do we keep on being friends? Do we pretend nothing has changed? Do we just ignore each other? I really don’t want the whole school knowing what is going on until I am ready to tell people.” Hermione blushed. “Please don’t take that the wrong way.”  
  
Draco shrugged. “I can see your predicament. Why don’t we just ignore each other in public? We can talk by owl, and of course, we can also meet up in secret. I’m sure the Wonder Twins never come see you in the Library.”  
  
“That could work, I suppose. But what if you are insulting them around me? I can’t just ignore you doing that. I will stick up for them, regardless of if you are my friend now or not.” Hermione wore a pained expression on her face. “It wouldn’t be asking too much for you to just leave them be?”  
  
Draco snorted. “As if! And it isn’t like they don’t start as many fights as I do. Look at it this way. If we fight and you intervene, I’ll treat you like always so no one gets suspicious. Just don’t take offence to anything I might say, alright?”  
  
“That’s fair.” Hermione held out her hand. “Let’s shake on it.”  
  
Draco took her hand and gave it a firm shake.  
  
Right at that moment Narcissa waltzed into the Hall. “Come along now, the both of you. We shall apparate there. It will give you more time to settle in at school, before any of your friends arrive.”  
  
Without giving either of them a chance to protest, she grabbed both their wrists, and with a familiar tug, Hermione was sucked into the ether.  
  
They arrived right outside the gates of Hogwarts. Hermione’s heart filled with joy seeing her home. For at the end of the day, that’s what it was now, home. She had no home so to speak with her parents now, and although technically she was the heir to the house on Grimmauld Place, it would always be Sirius’ in her mind.  
  
“Well if either of you need anything, send me an owl, I will send it to you as soon as I get a chance. I don’t want to hear about either of you sneaking out past curfew.” She turned to Hermione. “And no heroics. It is in your best interest if you stayed out of things for the moment.”  
  
She wrapped her arms around each of them, giving them both a kiss on the head. “Be good now.” She smiled, and with a final wave, disapparated.  
  
Draco groaned. “I hate it when Mother clucks all over me like that. I’m almost a legal adult. I don’t need her telling me these things.”  
  
Hermione laughed. “I thought it was sweet. And it was so nice of her to take us directly to school. It beats the long ride on the Hogwarts Express.” She affected a snobby voice. “We both know how you feel about public transport after all.”  
  
With another groan, Draco stalked up the path towards the school. “Well you coming Hermione? We might have all day, but if you just stand there, you won’t get to see Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum before the hordes swarm them.”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at him before trailing behind him. As they got closer to the castle, Draco stopped. “If we are to keep up the charade of not being friends, I think perhaps we should go our separate ways. If you really want to make it interesting, we could hurl abuse at each other in the Entrance Hall.” His eyes twinkled with mirth.  
  
“How about no, Malfoy. How about we just act like mature adults and not be idiots.” Hermione snapped. She had a sudden bad feeling. Maybe it was nerves. She wasn’t sure. But something was telling her all was not right.  
  
“Fine, whatever, _Granger_. If you wanna be a bitch all of a sudden, I might accidently call you Gaunt instead.” Draco snapped back.  
  
“No need to get so uptight. I just feel weird all of a sudden. You head off. I’ll see you around.” Hermione said absentmindedly as she looked around her surroundings. Something felt really off.  
  
“See you later, then.” Draco said as he walked away.  
  
Taking a few steadying breaths, Hermione started to slowly walk again along the path.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was stepping through the huge main doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
Calm seemed to settle around her, yet there was still a niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was just nerves. After everything that had happened over the last few days, it was only natural to be nervous. She straightened her shoulders and headed up the Grand Staircase towards Gryffindor tower. Even with how Harry and Ron had been treating her the last few months, she still missed them.  
  
Finally she found herself in front the portrait of the Fat Lady. She muttered the password.  
  
“You shouldn’t be here yet, how do I know you are who you say you are?” The Fat Lady gave her a stern look.  
  
“I was brought here by side along apparition. Please open, I just want to get settled down before the rest of the House come.” Hermione’s voice was tired.  
  
“I cannot know if you are who you say you are. So why should I let you in?” The Fat Lady retorted.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I am a prefect, I scored perfect O.W.L.S last year, and I am best friends with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. My favorite classes are Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Is there anything else?” Hermione snapped. It was just a bloody portrait. Why did it feel the need to question her? She had given the password.  
  
“Fine, I will let you in. But I will be reporting to the Headmaster this!” The Fat Lady huffed as she stormed out of her painting and through the others along the wall. The portrait swung open.  
  
Hermione stepped through the hole and let her eyes roam around the safe and familiar confines of the Gryffindor common room. All anxiety left her. She felt her shoulders relax, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She was home.  
  
Neville was sat in a chair by the fire, his brows knit in concentration as he studied their potions textbook. Parvarti had stayed back as well it seemed, she was curled up on a far couch reading the latest Witch Weekly.  
  
And right in the middle of the room sat Harry and Ron.  
  
They hadn’t noticed her entrance yet, and she was kind of glad as a sudden urge to surprise them overtook her. She bolted at them, wrapping one arm around Harry, the other around Ron. She had missed these two so much!

 

It took her a moment to realize they weren’t returning her embrace. Moving back she looked them over with a critical eye.  
  
“What wrong?” She asked.  
  
Ron turned a bright red and looked away. Harry answered. “Hermione, where did you spend your holidays?”  
  
It was the question she had been dreading. “With my family, why do you ask?”  
  
“Which family?” Ron spat as he stood. “Did you let that evil basted brand you like he branded Malfoy?”  
  
Hermione was aghast. How could they think so little of her? She felt tears well in her eyes. “What is the problem with both of you? I have done nothing wrong! Do you think I like that I am related to that murderous basted? Do you think I like having my life turned upside down? DO YOU THINK THIS ISN’T MESSING ME UP INSIDE?” She screamed the final sentence. She realized that those who were in the common room were staring at them. “DO YOU THINK THIS MAKES ME HAPPY?”  
  
“Hermione, calm down!” Harry sputtered. Ron threw her a nasty look. “Hermione, please. You need to understand my position here. How can I trust you, knowing you will be spending time with that lot? They are Death Eaters! They are in Voldemort’s inner circle. What if you accidently say something to them and it makes or breaks this War?” Harry was speaking to her as if she was a child.  
  
“Mememememememe! That’s all it is with you Harry! Guess what! You aren’t the only one whose life isn’t peachy right now.” Hermione felt her face flush and tears fill her eyes. Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the common room.  
  
Standing in the corridor, she turned in circles a few times, having no idea where to go. She started to walk towards the Library when she nearly ran headlong into Professor Dumbledore.  
  
“Hermione. Come. We need to talk.” The twinkle that was usually in his eye was gone, replaced with a solemn grimace.  
  
She didn’t say a word, and he clearly wasn’t expecting one. She followed him in silence.   
  
Eventually they were stood at the entrance to the office. “Sherbet.” Dumbledore muttered, as the gargoyle moved to the side, granting them entrance.  
  
Hermione stepped onto the revolving stairs behind the headmaster, her heart thumping in her chest.   
  
The trip seemed to take forever. She was sure the headmaster could hear her heart racing. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but it did nothing. Finally they reached the door.  
  
With a flick of his wand, Albus Dumbledore opened the door and admitted them both to his office. It was only the second time Hermione had ever been inside, and even with her frantic thoughts she was still amazed at the beauty of the space.  
  
“Take a seat, Ms. Gaunt.” Dumbledore finally spoke as he himself settled into a large chair on the other side of his large, claw footed desk. “I believe you and I are long due a discussion.”  
  
Hermione slowly sunk into a high backed wooden chair on the other side of the desk. It barely registered with her that Dumbledore had referred to her as Gaunt not Granger.  
  
“Hermione, how long have you known about your heritage?” Dumbledore asked softly, almost kindly. Yet the ever-present twinkle that was in his eyes was still gone.  
  
“Since, well since just after school finished. My father… he told me.” Hermione swallowed back her tears.  
  
“You should never have been told, Hermione. It was in your best interest you didn’t know. You must understand that. What happened at your stay at Malfoy Manor?” Dumbledore pushed. The bad feeling she had the moment she had set foot on the Hogwarts grounds returned. This conversation could go nowhere good.  
  
“Why couldn’t I have known? Do you really think I would join Him? I might be related to him, but that doesn’t mean I believe what he does!” Hermione exclaimed, yet she remembered the experiment he had shown her and how she had felt. At least on Voldemort’s part, it made sense. He was just using the preexisting prejudices of his followers to get his point across.  
  
“Please understand, you knowing is a liability to our cause. You know too much of the inner workings of the Order. You know the location of our Headquarters. You know what makes Harry ‘tick’, as the muggles say. You know too much. If you go to Him, he would use any means he could to get that information from you. If not him, then the Malfoy’s. They are dangerous Hermione.” Dumbledore was growing red in the face. It was clear he was trying to keep his anger at bay. Why would he pretend to care about her and those in the Order, but get angry at the same time? It made no sense.  
  
“Why couldn’t I have known from the beginning though? Don’t I have a right to know? These people are my family! My own father wants to kill me! Yet Narcissa Malfoy has been nothing but caring towards me! She held me as I sobbed, and she came to my defense when I needed it! Draco has taken everything in his stride to try and make me feel welcome, make me understand what the Hell is going on with me right now. Even Lucius bloody Malfoy has apologized! Yet not once, in the whole time I was a part of this world, has anyone ever tried to explain things to me, it’s always been ‘She is a muggleborn, she will learn with time.’ Or ‘It doesn’t matter, most muggleborns don’t even stay in our world.’.” Hermione was breathless by the time she finished her tirade.  
  
“You don’t understand! If you go to him, he wins! Do you not see the part you play in this War? Do you not understand how much Harry and the Order need you? If we lose you, we are all doomed! Do you wish to see your friends and peers thrown into slavery or worse?” It was clear Dumbledore was losing control now. His whole body shook with rage. “If you go to them, everything we know is lost!”  
  
“Why do you even expect children to fight in your War?” Hermione asked. This was something she was genuinely curious about. What madman wanted children to fight a war?  
  
“Hermione, you are young. Of course you don’t understand.” Dumbledore shook his head, it seemed sad, yet he was still clearly furious.

 

“If I am too young, why should I fight in a war where all you seem to want are child soldiers? No. I can’t do it.” It was in that moment Hermione realized too that she would not commit to a cause she couldn’t understand, and as she saw it, being forced into.  
  
“You can’t? Or you won’t? There is a very big difference.” The Headmaster’s voice was level.  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
“Then Hermione, you leave me no choice. We can’t do this without you. Harry needs your smarts to win this for us.” Dumbledore pulled out his wand. “ _Imperius_.”


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione felt floaty. Nothing mattered in the world. Had the headmaster just used an Unforgivable on her? He had! Oh well, it didn’t really matter did it? But why would he do that? He was supposed to be of the Light! Yet she felt so relaxed. More relaxed than she had felt in months. Yet still Albus Dumbledore, the man who supposedly abhorred the use of such spells had used one on her. How dare he? No! This was totally unacceptable! No matter how good it felt to be so relaxed.  
  
With a shake, she fought off the Headmaster’s curse. “NO!” She screamed as she stood up.  
  
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, cold determination written on his face. Hermione drew her wand.

 

“No! I won’t let you control me! Not like that! Not in any way!” Hermione screamed, training her wand at the aged Headmaster. “You have no control over me!”  
  
“Do you really think you could duel me and come out on top? You are nothing more than a child!” Dumbledore spat, standing also. “You are nothing more than a pawn in this War, like the others. Do you not see that? Do you really think it was any other way? You are all expendable. More children can be born!” Dumbledore’s fury was clearly loosening his tongue. “Is this what you wanted to know? Is this what you wanted to understand?”  
  
Tears were streaming down Hermione’s face. This couldn’t be. No. There must be some other reason. Albus Dumbledore was supposed to be a beacon of hope for the Light. Yet here he was, spouting such evil, horrific things!  
  
“ _Impendimenta_.” Dumbledore muttered. Hermione had just enough time to throw up a shield charm to stop the jinx from hitting her.  
  
“I won’t be your tool. Never. How could you do this to any of us?” Hermione asked through her tears.  
  
“Why does it matter? Voldemort does the same! And who are you to question me, little girl?” Dumbledore shook with fury.  
  
She was shocked to feel herself calm down. The tears stopped, and her body stopped shaking. Squaring her shoulders she said, her voice loud and clear. “I am Hermione Gaunt, descendant of one of the four founders of this school you are ruining. I am Hermione Gaunt, a daughter of the Most Ancient House of Black. You cannot control me any longer.” She turned on her heel and walked calmly out of the office, leaving Albus Dumbledore with his mouth agape.  
  
She had no idea where the sudden confidence came from, but come it had. Once she had stepped out the door, she fled down the stairs and out into the hall. She had no idea what her next move was. She couldn’t stay here any longer. It was clear as day she was not safe. She turned quickly on her heel and fled towards the nearest exit. She had to get away and fast.  
  
Hermione left the castle and sprinted through the grounds, finding herself just outside the gates of Hogwarts several minutes later.  
  
Her wand was still gripped tightly in her hand. She needed somewhere to go. Urgently.  
  
A sudden thought popped into her head. She would try to apparate. She had as of yet done the test, but she knew the theory. _Destination, Determination and Deliberation_. Focusing on the gates of Malfoy Manor, she visualized herself standing there, reaching to open the gate. At first it felt like nothing had happened. She opened her eyes, ready to try again when she saw the gates, tall and solid in front of her. She jumped up and down, proud of herself for a moment, before the gravity of what had happened sunk in. Dumbledore was just as bad as Voldemort, if not worse! She had fled Hogwarts after the Headmaster had used an Unforgivable curse on her!  
  
Quickly she checked herself over. Nothing seemed wrong. She hadn’t splinched. Yet her nails did look shorter. But that was all. She was whole, and she was now safe.  
  
The gates opened to her and she ran up the gravel drive, rapping on the door as loud as she could.  
  
A house elf in a neat and clean pillowcase opened the door. “Miss Hermione! Why is you not in school? What has happened? Let me go get the Mistress. Come in, come in!”  
  
The elf lead Hermione through the large house and into the Ladies Room. “I’s be going to get the Mistress now. You just wait.”

 

Hermione sat on one of the elegant sofas and sighed. She was safe now. She knew the Manor had wards to prevent apparition to any who were not permitted, and she highly doubted Albus Dumbledore would be on the list of invited guests.  
  
Minutes later, Narcissa rushed in. “Hermione! What on earth is the matter? Why aren’t you in school? What has happened?” In her frantic state, Narcissa’s usual impeccable hair was a tangled mess down her back, pins falling to the ground where she stood. Her robes only now stilling from the speed she had rushed into the room with.  
  
With a sigh, Hermione told her everything that had happened, not leaving a detail out. Hermione surprised herself, by the time she was done telling her story her eyes were still dry. “What do I do now, Narcissa? I think I just dropped out of Hogwarts, and if not, I have surely been expelled. Either way, I know I am no longer safe there.”  
  
Narcissa was clearly furious. “You stay here of course. I will speak to Lucius in the meantime and try and have that old bat withdrawn from him position. We may need to use your memories as evidence.”  
  
“No!” Shame flooded Hermione. She was the brightest witch of her age! How could she have let the Headmaster cast the Imperious curse on her?  
  
“It is up to you dear. But if we are to be rid of him, we will need proof of what he has done.” Narcissa said in a soothing voice.  
  
“I know,” Hermione replied. “I will take Veritaserum.”  
  
Narcissa nodded. “That should be sufficient. But that will mean you will need to be taken before the Wizengamot.”  
  
“I know.” Hermione sighed. “I just can’t bare the idea of anyone actually seeing me in that position!”  
  
Narcissa wrapped Hermione in her arms. “You are more than welcome to stay here as long as you need. I will have the room you stayed in cleaned and set up for you, okay?”  
  
Hermione nodded. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”  
  
“It is nothing, dear. Though there is a lot more you will need to think about than you can possibly realize. For now though, just relax.” Narcissa patted her shoulder. “Do you have your trunk?”  
  
Hermione started to shake her head, then realized that it was still in her pocket. “Yes, I have it here.” She pulled out the shrunken trunk.  
  
“Good I shall have it sent up to your room. Also, I shall be having Draco brought back. It is clearly no longer safe in that school.” Narcissa tutted. “I never thought things would get this bad. I am sorry you are caught in the middle of all this Hermione.”  
  
The elegant woman rose, tossing her loosened hair over her shoulders and glided out of the room.  
  
Hermione slumped into the back of the chair, feeling her muscles relax. She hadn’t realized how much the idea of returning to Hogwarts had bothered her. Everything had changed now though.  
  
It was clear that there would be no one on the Light side who would accept her for who she truly was. And the Dark was more than willing to take her in. Yet she couldn’t side with the Dark. She knew that, didn’t she?  
  
She remembered the experiment that Voldemort had shown her again. How strange the reaction had been. It reminded Hermione a lot of a weird bomb.  
  
She knew she could never fully support him that was out of the question. Yet would he really be that bad? Dumbledore had the Minister in his pocket. With the things he had said to her earlier in the day, would Voldemort be any worse if he was in power? Perhaps Hermione might even be able to sway his beliefs somewhat. Make it not about control, but education of the masses.  
  
Could she do it? She could try. Already he was a different person to who she had been lead to believe he was. He was evil, it was true. Yet he had been willing to accept her as family. Her friends, the people who she thought would actually understand, had thrown her away like trash.  
  
Hermione had a sudden thought. If Voldemort’s theory was correct, how was it that Harry was as accomplished as he was? Although not as smart as her, he was near the top of their year, especially in Defense of the Dark Arts. It was something she would need to bring up with Voldemort she supposed.  
  
Hermione wandered up to her room. The house elves had already put her things away. The meager amount of casual clothing she owned was hung in the walk in robe. Her toiletries had been laid out on the vanity in the bathroom, and her photos had been placed on the surfaces of the main room. It almost looked homily.  
  
There was a soft knock on her bedroom door. As Hermione turned around, Narcissa walked in. Her hair was back up in its elegant chignon, and the regal woman looked much more composed.  
  
“I hope I am not interrupting anything dear. I just thought I would let you know that you are more than welcome to change the color scheme in this room to anything you desire. I wish you to feel as at home as possible. I also wanted to let you know that this morning after taking you and Draco to school I went to Gringotts to have your share of the Black Inheritance transferred to your account. I thought you might like to do some shopping.” Narcissa took a brief look in the wardrobe. “Let me rephrase that. We will be going shopping as soon as possible.”  
  
Hermione couldn’t help the smile that lit her face. It felt surprisingly nice to be having such a conversation with Narcissa Malfoy. Her own mother had never been much for shopping, especially for the sake of it, and Hermione had been much the same. But the commanding presence of the Malfoy Matriarch and her clear excitement over going shopping with another girl was contagious.  
  
“Well, my day seems to have cleared up quite considerably. Would you like to go now?” Hermione asked, trying to not sound as eager as she found herself.  
  
A beautiful smile lit Narcissa’s face. “Of course! Let me look through what you have here, I am sure we can piece together something suitable for an afternoon shopping trip!”  
  
Narcissa almost dove into Hermione’s closet. Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was changed into some flax colored slacks, a white flannel blouse and a white pair of ballet flats. She was surprised Narcissa had any idea on muggle fashion to coordinate such an outfit. So much so she made a mention of it.  
  
“Don’t tell Lucius dear, but I have a collection of Muggle fashion magazines hidden in my vanity draw. I like to be the one to start the trends in our world, and we are so far behind on current fashion ideals that if I borrow from the muggles, I am made to look innovative and others try to emulate me. Selfish perhaps, but it is who I am.” Narcissa gave a small shrug and blushed prettily. “Besides, the gossip contained in the celebrity pages is fascinating!”  
  
It was all Hermione could do to not laugh.  
  
Narcissa took Hermione’s hand and led her from the room and down into the Entrance Hall. “I shall let you know now, I have had the contents of your previous vault transferred to a new vault under Hermione Gaunt. It won’t be long until the whole wizarding world knows who you are. You need to be prepared to face it.”   
  
Hermione was unsure how she felt about that. It was a little unsettling that the whole world would know who her family actually was. Not that she was ashamed. Not of the Black side anyway. She took a steadying breath.  
  
_You are Hermione Gaunt. You are a powerful witch in your own right, regardless of who you are related to. Do not let the world drag you down._  
  
With that thought Hermione took a pinch of floo powder and threw it into the flames. Standing in the spacious fireplace she said as clear as she could; “Gringotts Wizarding Bank!”

 

She stepped out of the fireplace into a small but elegantly furnished sitting room. For a moment she had thought she had gotten out of the wrong floo, until she spied a goblin sitting at an incredibly high desk in the furthest corner.  
  
Narcissa stepped out of the fire behind her and brushed off her robes of any stray ash.  
  
“Ah yes, Madame Malfoy, Madame Gaunt. It is a pleasure to see you both.” The goblin finally spoke.  
  
Hermione jumped at hearing herself addressed as such, but realized it the goblin was more than likely being polite.  
  
“Yes thank you, Brogpick. We wish to be shown to Madame Gaunt’s vault if you would be so kind.” Narcissa’s voice had turned to an icy command, much like Hermione remembered at the Quidditch World Cup. A shiver went down her spine.  
  
The goblin jumped down from his high stool and waddled over to a door. “Yes Madame. If you would both follow me, I am sure I can be showing you to the vault.” Brogpick flicked his hand at the door, being too short to reach the handle, and the door swung open. As opposed to the normal mine cart that Hermione was accustomed to, there was a small but elegant open tram carriage. It was furnished with soft cushions in a variety of colors.

 

Narcissa climbed with ease onto the carriage and sat down. “Come now, Hermione. We shouldn’t waste time. We have a lot to do this afternoon.”  
  
Gingerly Hermione climbed into the carriage. With a click from the fingers of the goblin, they were off.  
  
It too them almost fifteen minutes to reach the location of Hermione’s new vault. They seemed to be going steadily down wood until they came to a complete stop.  
  
“Here we are Madame’s.” The goblin jumped out of the carriage and helped both Hermione and Narcissa down.  
  
They walked down a small corridor until they had come to the end. The goblin ran a grubby nail down the middle of the door. A moment later, Hermione’s eyes fell on the contents of her much larger vault.  
  
All around her were stacks of coins, the gold, silver and bronze of wizarding currency. A floor to ceiling cabinet hosted many small draws. As Hermione approached, Narcissa explained. “Therein are contained yours and your mothers portion of the Black family inheritance. Until we can return your mother’s memories, then they are yours for safe keeping. Mostly family jewels and artifacts.”  
  
Hermione’s eyes grew wide as she pulled open one of the draws. A beautiful gold and ruby jewelry set was sat on black velvet.  
  
She opened another draw to reveal a jeweled goblet, the metal unknown for how many precious gems were embedded into it.  
  
“Come now, Hermione. We really must be off. We can inspect it another day.” Narcissa handed Hermione an elegant coin pouch. “Fill it with a handful of galleons and we shall be on our way.”  
  
Hermione quickly scooped up some coins and poured the contents of her hand into the pouch.  
  
Narcissa chatted away aimlessly on their ride back up to the surface. Once outside, it took Hermione a few moments for her eyes to adjust.  
  
“I will take you to my designer. She will know exactly what it is you will need.” Narcissa said as she walked brusquely through the crowd of people, Hermione barely managing to keep up.  
  
People stopped and stared at them. It was no secret that Hermione was Harry Potter’s best friend, and here she was, traipsing through Diagon Alley with none other than Narcissa Malfoy when she was supposed to still be on the Hogwarts Express on her way to school. She wondered how much longer it would take for Dumbledore to blacklist Hermione’s name.  
  
 Narcissa led her into a small shop not far from Flourish and Blotts. Hermione had not ever paid attention to it before, as from the outside it looked entirely deserted. Narcissa led Hermione down a dark corridor before stopping before an elegant, but outlandish door. “I should tell you now Hermione, Mistress Ruletov is a seer. She won’t ask questions. She will know what it is you like.  She will take your measurements and we will be on our way.  
  
Narcissa knock seemed almost like a waltz. One, two, three. Pause. One, two three.  
  
The door opened of its own accord and Hermione had a sudden flashback to third year.   
  
The room was filled with the strong smoke of incense, silk scarves were hung from all the lights and lanterns, and the room was stiflingly hot. Immediately Hermione pushed up the sleeves of her blouse.

 

“Ah, Narcissa dear. It is so good to be in the presence of your aura again. And you have a young witch with you as well! She is in your care no?” A woman came into view. She was tall and waifish, with the longest red hair Hermione had ever seen. Her robes seemed to be made of nothing more than random scraps of fabric sown together and she was walking around barefooted. How she was a fashion designer Hermione had no clue.  
  
Her eyes snapped onto Hermione. “Do not judge on looks alone.” Her Russian accent was thick. “I design what you are. Not necessarily what is fashionable.”  
  
Hermione heard Narcissa snigger in a less than ladylike manner. “I hate to say it dear, but in our short acquaintance I have found you can be quite judgmental.”

 

Hermione bit her lip. She hadn’t even realized.  
  
“It is no matter.” Mistress Ruletov said dreamily. “Come now. I will measure you up.”  
  
The experience Hermione found was very much like when she got her first wand.  
  
The tape measure zapped around her, measuring the gap between her eyebrows, the length of her toes.  
The distance between her bottom rib and her navel.  
  
An hour later, it seemed all the measurements were done. “Let me take a good look at you dear.” Hermione turned to the woman. “Yes I see it. Remember, to be fashionable one needs to be comfortable, and not everyone is comfortable in the latest trends. I shall have a new wardrobe available for you by tomorrow. That will be one thousand six hundred and sixty – four galleons, four sickles, and twenty – five knuts.”  
  
Hermione balked. “Sorry? How much?”  
  
Narcissa’s crystalline laugh filled the room. ‘Worry not dear. I realized after we left it might be more than you could carry. Have it charged to Hermione Gaunt’s Gringotts account.”  
  
Hermione turned to Narcissa cautiously. “Do I even have enough in there? I mean, that is an awful lot of money!”  
  
Narcissa smiled indulgently. “Yes. I am certain. Now let us go. I am sure Lucius will be home with Draco.”


	10. Chapter 10

He had finally just settled into the Slytherin common room when his father stepped through the wall. To say Draco was surprised was an understatement.

 

“What are you doing here father? You never come visit when you are on school business.”

 

Lucius Malfoy looked around the room with a mixture of nostalgia and disgust. “You’re coming home. I know you just unpacked but get your trunk, it is time to leave.”

 

Draco gave his father a look of utter confusion. “What’s going on?”

 

“Don’t question me, boy, just do as you’re told.”

 

Draco ran down the winding staircase into his room, curiosity coursing through him. Something bad had happened, that much was certain. But what could be so bad that his father was forced to pull him out of school?

 

With a flick of his wand, Draco piled his things into the trunk at the end of his bed. Another flick and it was shrunk down enough to fit in his pocket.

 

Too intrigued to even look back, he ran back up the stairs to his father.

 

Without even a word, Lucius Malfoy swept out of the common room.

 

Draco followed, almost running to keep up with his father’s quick steps. It was clear something was very, very wrong.

 

“Do you remember any of the defensive spells I taught you?” Lucius’ voice was strained.

 

Draco swallowed then nodded, before realizing his father couldn’t even see him without looking behind him. “Uh, yes Sir.”

 

“Good. Don’t use them unless you are personally attacked. Don’t do a thing unless you are attacked, or unless I can do nothing anymore. Have I made myself clear?” There was a detached quality to Lucius’ voice. It was cold. For the first time that day, Draco felt afraid.

 

“Yes, father,” Draco whispered.

 

Lucius stopped suddenly. He looked down at his son, a look of pain and pride on his face. “I know whatever happens, you will make me a very proud man.” Without waiting for a reply, Lucius turned on his heel and headed for the main doors of Hogwarts.

 

Draco swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. It was a rare time his father ever made such declarations. And rarer still for them to happen in a public place. Something must be very wrong indeed.

 

It was once they were in the Entrance Hall they ran into trouble.

 

“You will not take him, Malfoy. He isn’t safe with you.” Dumbledore’s voice was cold. Draco could make out his silhouette in front of the huge double doors that led out of the castle.

 

Lucius drew his wand from his cane. “I beg to differ, old man. He is my son and a minor. I believe as his legal guardian I have every right to withdraw my son from an institution I find to be unsafe.”

 

Draco saw the headmaster aim his wand his father. “And as the Headmaster of this school, I believe it is my duty to ensure my students are safe. I cannot let him leave with you.”

 

Lucius laughed at him. “Safe? You call the orphanage you let my Lord grow up in safe? He was your student was her not? Oh, but you were nothing but a lowly transfiguration teacher at the time, regardless of any of your previous achievements.

 

“How about the lovely Mr. Potter? You allow him to live with his abusive relatives, is that not correct? And of course, we can’t forget the beautiful Ms. Gaunt now can we? I believe there was something about her father wanting to kill her, and you allowing her to stay in that position? And you talk about wanting to keep the children safe. Tsk tsk Albus, you will need to do better than that.”

 

Dumbledore straightened, his wand still pointed at his father. “Everything I have done, everything I do, is for the greater good! Not that you would know anything about that would you?” The headmaster walked slowly towards them. Looking towards Draco, Dumbledore’s tone changed. “Come here Draco. I know you don’t want to go through what it is I know your father has planned for you. I know you don’t want to join Voldemort’s service. Come here. I will keep you safe.”

 

Draco remained where he was stood. The headmaster was correct to some point. He didn’t want to join The Dark Lord’s war, yet he knew, if it came down to it, he would always side with his family and his family was very much opposed to Dumbledore and his mad regime. “No thanks, I believe the muggles have a saying. ‘Better the Devil you know, then the Devil you don’t.’”

 

Fury spread across the headmaster’s face. “It was not a request, Draco.”

 

Lucius put his free arm around his shoulder. “You heard him, Albus. You will have no control over my family.”

 

“ _Incarcerous_.” Dumbledore hissed, his wand aimed at Lucius.

 

Draco jumped back just as his father threw up a shield charm. “Did you really think it would be that easy, Albus?” Lucius drawled, “I am my Lord’s right hand for a reason.”

 

“So you are no longer denying your involvement with Voldemort?” Dumbledore seemed genuinely interested.

 

“For what reason? I do not see any outcome but a triumph for our side. We will come out the victors.”

 

Dumbledore scoffed. “I highly doubt it. For we will always have the upper hand.”

 

Lucius shook his head. “No. You have child soldiers. A school full of barely educated children compared to the might my Lord’s army? There is no other outcome but defeat for you and yours. Come Draco. We are going now.”

 

Draco watched as his father walked closer and closer towards Dumbledore. He was frozen to the spot, his eyes wide. He didn’t want to watch what he knew would take place.

 

Just as he was about to close his eyes, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “He would want you to watch, Draco. You might not want to, be if what I believe is about to happen does happen, he would want you to watch.” The low tones of his godfather’s voice filled his ear. Draco nodded solemnly. He would watch for his father’s sake.

 

“Come no closer, Lucius.” The headmaster hissed.

 

“Why Albus? Are you afraid?” Lucius held his want in one hand, the base of his cane in the other. Slowly he inched closer, his arms spread wide. “My wand is not pointed at you, I am simply trying to accompany my son home.”

 

“I said, come no closer. I will not have you take him.” Albus’ wand hand shook as he aimed it directly at Lucius Malfoy’s heart.

 

“That is too bad, Dumbledore. My son will not remain any longer in this institution. I have already had the appropriate paperwork filed. He is no longer a student of yours.”

 

“Then he can be a hostage of your good behavior. You will not take him.” The headmaster was red in the face, and his whole body shook now. “He is to remain here.”

 

“No Albus. He is going. You have no control over any of us. Remember that. Your force is small. You will never win.” Lucius was stood directly in front of Dumbledore, the headmaster's wand pushed right into his chest. “Do it. I know you want to. Do it, do it now. I dare you.”

 

Draco watched as the face of his former headmaster morphed into one of crazed insanity. “ _Avada Kedavra_.” The headmaster muttered.

 

Draco saw his father crumple to the floor before he felt the tug behind his navel that came with side along apparition _. I didn’t think you could apparate within the grounds of Hogwarts_ , was the only coherent thought he could form.

 


End file.
